A Bad Case of Librarianism
by Snarkland78
Summary: Who is this new neighbor of House's? Does he know her? Or will she surprise him? T for now, M for much later. I decided to change the rating before I need to, just to give people enough fair warning. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

"What the hell is this thing? And why's it outside my door?" a gruff male voice exclaimed at the tall, ugly…something…sitting outside his door.

"Redecorating, House? It's quite an eclectic objet d'art. I just don't see how it will fit in with your décor of choice: stacks of medical journals, countless guitars and empty soup cans." A gentler male voice observed.

"It's not mine. Just shut up and help me move it."

House leaned his cane against his apartment door then each man grabbed a side of the indescribable thing.

"Wilson, this is your type of crap. Want to 'nap it? I'm sure the owner wouldn't miss it." When he went to pick it up, House gasped from the sheer weight of the monstrosity. "I was wrong; there's no way someone COULD miss it. This thing must weigh 5 tons. How can something so ugly be this heavy?"

"Because it's made of brass," a feminine voice joined the cacophony of grunted swearing. THUNK. House dropped his side, making Wilson lose his grip and the heavy roadblock fell with such a force it was quite amazing the thing didn't fall through the floor.

Wilson had been too busy lifting to hear the voice. "HOUSE!" he grunted. Looking up when he got no answer, Wilson saw House staring at something behind him. He turned to see what had his friend so enthralled…and quickly became enthralled himself.

The owner of the new voice had obviously just stepped out of the shower: she was still wet and her trim, shapely body was wrapped in a fluffy green towel, a matching towel wrapped like a turban around her head. Beads of water covered every visible inch of her fair but slightly olive skin. If she hadn't had enough of their attention already, her hands holding the towel together only drew the hormonal, middle-aged and relationship-challenged men's attention even closer to the beads of water quickly making tracks down the valley between her modestly-covered ample breasts.

"And that's supposed to be a coat rack; don't ask me what it really is or what it symbolizes. My mother gave it to me." The woman looked from the object to the men then smiled at their dumb, open-mouthed staring. "I'm new here; I only moved in yesterday." She paused and her look traveled between the two men. "The landlord told me a very nice gay couple lived in this building. Are you them?"

"WHAT?!?!" Wilson shrieked, very eager to dispel that rumor. "No we aren't…me and him? No…far from it. I…um…I don't know why you'd think…" The more Wilson talked the stupider…and cuter…he became. _And those dimples certainly don't hurt,_ she thought, her smiling eyes roaming his face.

House rolled his eyes. "Oh, Jimmy dear, don't deny what we have; our love transcends all hatred or prejudice." His sarcastic tone certainly told her he wasn't serious. He turned his attention to her. "So…" House's eyes eagerly, almost hungrily, eyed the delicacies in front of him; she just raised an eyebrow. "…do you always answer the door this way?" He turned to Wilson who was reddening with embarrassment. "Looks like I'll have to borrow sugar more often, what do you think?"

The woman rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to return to the apartment directly across from House's. "Hey, come back!" House shrieked and turned to the brass object, waving his hands in front of it. "Do something with your…whatever it is. It's blocking my way."

"Then go around it." She yelled over her shoulder and stepped into her apartment. She turned to close the door and saw the men staring at her. "See you boys around." She slammed the door, leaving them groaning in her wake.

After a few moments of both men staring at her closed door, Wilson turned to his friend and asked, "Does this building have any vacancies?"

*****


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"What is this?" House asked as he thumped his cane against the office floor, waving a file at the three "newborns" (his new fellowship team). THUMP, THUMP…THUNK. (That last one was House dumping the file into the wastepaper basket.)

The three "kids" stared dumbly at their mentor. "Huh?" Dr. Kutner asked.

House rolled his eyes. "Ok, I'll say it again, only this time much slower…" his entire head moved to each "duckling" with each word, "…WHAT…" (he looked at Kutner), "…IS…" (Taub) "…THIS?" (13). He pointed to the wastepaper basket at "this".

"It's a birthday card for Dr. Henderson in Radiology." Taub said as if stating the obvious, which he was. Everyone in their right mind knows what a birthday card is…except perhaps someone who didn't receive them. Like Dr. Gregory House.

House frowned and picked up the file. Opening it he found the card. Without any regard for anyone or anything around him (as usual), he took the card, which had been signed by quite a few people and ripped it up, then threw it back into the wastepaper basket.

"It was a crappy card anyway. Henderson would've loved it." He smiled wickedly and went back to thumping his cane, leaving his kids to stare at him with moral disgust. What had disappointed House the most was now he'd have to train a whole new batch of minions: if it had been his Tremendous Trio, the card would've never reached his line of sight, Cameron would've made sure of that. He sighed again at the injustice of his life as his face scrunched in confusion. "Why are you standing around? Go…do something…doctorly. I don't have time between soaps and foosball and avoiding clinic to baby-sit you. Shoo!"

The three thoroughly confused doctors scrambled out of there, in search of work. They'd just sent their last patient home that morning and nothing new had come in. That left House up to his own devices…which meant thinking about Shower Girl for the 25th time that day. Since they'd met her and her coat rack (_Yeah right…that ain't no coat rack. Judging from Shower Girl's ease at nudity, I'd guess it was some African Fertility…something. And now I've touched it. Perfect. Better not touch Cuddy…I might become a father just by being around her. She's been awfully fertile lately._), she was constantly on his mind.

House sighed, ran a hand through his hair and looked at his watch. 4:00 p.m. "Ok, I've gotta get out of here; I'll take the back way." House grabbed his jacket and backpack then hobbled out. Getting in his wreck of a car, he didn't know where he was going; at this moment he didn't care but, within minutes he found himself pulling into the parking lot of the Princeton Public Library. Before asking himself why he was there, House remembered how much he used to love libraries…but certainly not for the books. His fondest memories of libraries were the University libraries that were open all night and had dark, quiet corners. They were the cheapest spots to take dates. House smiled as he remembered the numerous times he took just as many girls to these spots, sometimes at 3 or 4 in the morning. Those really were good times. And who said college was just for book learnin'?

Parking the car, he grabbed his gear and hobbled into the library. In all the years he lived in Princeton, he'd only been to this library once, and that was before they'd redecorated. As he stepped through the front doors, the smell of binding and musty pages suddenly brought back memories of squealing college girls…their soft skin…how quickly their panties would hit the floor…the feeling of…

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?" A matronly woman asked, her half-glassed eyes critically skimming over his rather slovenly-attired body. She wore a sweater covered with dancing bears; a pair of brown rayon/nylon pants; an eyeglasses cord made from shells; and her tightly pulled back in a bun. House sighed; he'd been having a very satisfying daydream when she interrupted.

"Doubt it; do you have any dark, quiet corners useful for seducing women?" He asked matter-of-factly.

The woman gasped in such a way House thought she was having a coronary. Holding her chest, she scooted to the main information desk. House rolled his eyes and moved to the stacks, muttering, "How can those 60-year-old virgins who sit behind library desks understand the needs of men? She's so self-righteous." He didn't get very far when he heard some commotion coming from the desk he'd left "the 60-year-old virgin" at. Venturing to ignore it, he hobbled further into the library when he heard, "Somebody call 9-1-1! She's having a heart attack!" For some reason, that voice sounded very familiar.

Sighing, he turned around and hobbled back…only to find Shower Girl.

*****


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

She was the voice House recognized and she was standing over the "virgin", who really was having a heart attack. "She doesn't have to be so melodramatic," House muttered underneath his breath and put his stuff down. He moved to the edge of the kneeling or standing people, all looking down at the woman who wasn't moving. "Ok, calm down. Move, move, move; I'm a doctor." He immediately bent down as best as he could, given his leg, and looked up at Shower Girl who was clearly surprised to see him. He winked and she raised her eyebrow then he turned to the lady on the floor.

"Call 9-1-1. I'll get her stabilized." And he did just that, to everyone's relief and Shower Girl's reluctant delight. Within five minutes, the ambulance had arrived and taken her away while the library went back to normal. Once the area had been cleared, except for House and Shower Girl, House hobbled closer to her and, for the first time since he'd seen her, noticed what she was wearing: a black turtleneck; black trouser pants with thin white stripes; black pumps. He was quite impressed with the wardrobe but it was the hair/eye combination of which he saw for the first time that impressed him the most. After all, it had been in a towel when they first met.

Her hair was a rich caramel color, thick with light blond highlights. It lay in layers over her shoulders, full and shiny, just begging his long fingers to take a journey through their soft thickness. But it was her eyes that intrigued him the most: huge and grey with flecks of brown to match her hair. She was extraordinary in a very non-supermodel kind of way.

House smirked and looked her up and down. She wasn't tall, wasn't short: she looked about 5'7". "The clothed look suits you as well; I prefer green towels myself." She smirked and silently studied him. "Have you got a name or do I have to shout "Shower Girl!" as I'm climaxing in my cold, lonely nights?"

She simply shook her head at his importune comment. "Are you always this deliberately crude?"

"Of course."

"Well at least everyone knows where they stand with you." The woman held out her hand. "Romoly Scott."

His eyebrow lifted as he shook her tiny hand. "Romoly. Isn't that a village in Hungary?"

Romoly looked surprised; she'd never met anyone who actually knew that. "Yes. It used to be in Hungary but now its part of Romania. I have ancestors from that region. How did you know?"

House shrugged. It was one of those useless pieces of information that he acquired in his journeys but, not wanting to sound tedious, he tried to save face. So he made up a story. "In college I drank my way through Europe; the Hungarians have some very interesting wines." She shook her head once again at his impolitic attitude but he didn't seem to notice as he was switching subjects. "What are you doing at the library, anyway? Finding the perfect goulash recipe or something?"

Romoly smiled. "I'm the head librarian."

This shocked him. House thought he'd killed the head librarian; at least that broad had fit his stereotype of the quintessential librarian. This woman? Hardly. "Now I've seen it all: a sexy librarian." He shook his head. "It's just too bad you're an old maid." House's eyes roamed her body, taking a few extra moments to marvel at how the turtleneck made her breasts so delectable, round and perky. "What a waste." He paused. For the first time in a lifetime of disappointments for House, this one seemed to hurt more than the previous because there seemed to be so much possibility here. Standing in a public apartment building's hallway in nothing but terry cloth was a huge step toward a lasting relationship for House. It meant the woman was ok with nudity, something he found very important in a relationship. VERY important.

"Ok, if you are a repressed librarylady," she could see he was trying to reason this out and it was truly bugging him, "then why did you answer the door that way? I'd have thought you were too naïve to do something that worldly and too inexperienced to realize what would happen should you open the door wearing only a bath towel, ESPECIALLY with a body like yours."

Romoly wasn't quite sure how she should feel. In the course of only a few moments he'd both complimented and insulted her. "You seem to have a very stereotypical view of librarians. Why do you think we're that way?"

House looked at her in complete and honest disbelief. "Well, HELLO??!?! Did you SEE the broad wheeled out of here today? She was the model of librarianism."

"HUH?" Now she was really confused but had a feeling she was about to find out where this was going. He certainly didn't look like the type of guy that would keep one guessing. "What is librarianism?"

It was House's turn to be really confused; if a LIBRARIAN didn't even know about librarianism there was something horribly wrong with American society today. "It's a condition suffered by librarians all around the world: stuffy, undersexed women with four cats and 20 cross-stitch pillows on their oversized and grossly underutilized bed. They wear shell-covered eyeglass cords and cross-stitched teddy-bear sweatshirts. On the weekends they go to quilting fairs and book clubs. Their houses are frou-frou and over decorated." House nodded as if he were the authority on librarianism. "It's pathetic, really; just shows you the degeneration of our social evolution." He looked at her seriously. "And you want to know what the worst part is?"

Romoly wasn't sure she knew what she was doing but went for it anyway. "What's the worst part?"

"Most of them are repressed virgins who read too many romance novels."

And that was it; she'd heard too much. "Where on earth do you get such ideas as these? Do you have disturbing memories of the library or librarians: did you attempt to seduce a librarian and she picked her "quilting fair" over you? Or have a traumatic run-in with a Maven of the Melville? Or were you roused from your bed at 3:00 in the morning by a librarian from the FES (Fee Enforcement Squad) who made Dog the Bounty Hunter look like Mr. Rogers?" House was starting to look uncomfortable and looked around him, perhaps to find a way to divert her attention away from her tirade. "Librarians are absolutely NOT like that. From what I can see…" she looked him up and down, taking in his sloppy attire and even sloppier manner, "…if you've ever been in a library it wasn't to study. It was probably to pick up girls. Is that why you're here now?" House's mouth dropped at this. _Damn,_ he thought, watching her evaluate him. _She's smarter than I thought she was._ But she wasn't finished.

"And thank you very much for prejudging me. I've never met anyone who's treated me, nor my chosen profession, the way you just did. People respect me and how I help them." Romoly thought about being mad…but then remembered a lesson she learned from a long time back: if someone doesn't know someone but prejudges them anyway, it's a good sign they're either intimidated, ignorant or insecure. Getting mad at someone who was like that would be completely stupid.

So Romoly, knowing this irritating neighbor wasn't the authority on librarians, decided to change his outlook. She simply resolved, right then and there, that if they were to be peaceable neighbors she had to set him straight regarding that stupid "librarianism" stereotype, once and for all. And she would keep telling herself it was only because she had her profession to defend…and the sanity of the apartment building…that set her feet on that mission.

She would not let this man, who was so obviously mean, inappropriate and just plain BAD, to drive her crazy. Never mind the maddeningly sudden drive-you-to-see-your-shrink attraction she had to him…the same man who, just a short time before, had insulted her with his narrow-minded ignorance.

"You never answered my question: why did you answer the door that way?"

_Avoidance. Great: we're dealing with one of THESE. He's gonna be a hard nut to crack._ "Well, Dr. House," he raised his eyebrow at that; he'd never introduced himself. "it could've been one of two things: either I saw you and your sexy manhood through the peephole and simply decided to throw my wet body at you…" he grinned at this and she rolled her eyes. "…or I'd just stepped out of the shower and, judging from the racket the two of you were making outside my door I thought there was a stampede of wildebeest in the hallway." She shrugged. "I was curious. I really didn't expect the wildebeest to become sexually attracted to me so I took a gamble. Who knew wildebeests liked humans?"

She turned away from him and picked up a stack of books lying on the counter, apparently ready to be re-shelved. "Now, Dr. House, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

House was continually surprised to hear his name from her lips. "How do you know my name?"

Romoly smiled and came around the corner of the desk to stand beside him. Leaning her supple hip against the desk, she said, "There's a full-disclosure clause in the renter's contract that says that, in order to rent there, I needed to be aware of the crazy, gimpy doctor across the hall and that if I had any problems with him I needed to take it up with management." She moved around him, leaving him open-mouthed in admiration and annoyance. "…I'll see you around, NEIGHBOR." She called softly over her shoulder and rounded the corner to the non-fiction section.

He smiled and watched her walked away. While he stuck to his "librarianism" view, she was seriously beginning to prove that theory wrong. He had a feeling there was so much more to her than just stacking books on shelves or reading books to snotty-nosed brats. And that was his single-minded pursuit for as long as it was necessary.

*****


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

SLAM! Wilson shrieked with fright at the sound of the office door slamming. This nearly caused him to fall out of his seat, thereby _almost_ starting a chain reaction of: hurling the patient file in his hand across the room; knocking over his glass of water; short-circuiting the electric screwdriver and starting a fire as a result. Holding his chest, he looked up to find House pacing in front of his desk. Wilson looked at his watch. 7:30 a.m.

Wilson gasped. 7:30! "House? Isn't it a bit early for you?"

"Jimmy…" House stopped pacing and thumped his cane against the floor. "She's a freakin' LIBRARIAN!"

Wilson sighed and finally laid the file down. Clearly he wasn't going to get any work done now. "House, I'm working; I have patients that are actually dying. What do you want? And you never told me why you're early. And WHO'S a librarian?" Wilson pointed his finger at House. "Your latest hooker? That's a new one."

"Shower Girl! She's a repressed, virginal librarian!"

Wilson immediately remembered Shower Girl. Truth be told, he could never forget Shower Girl, no matter how he tried. And he never labeled her as repressed or virginal…at least not from where he'd been standing when they first met. "Oh…Shower Girl. Yeah, I remember….WHAT???? She's a LIBRARIAN?? Wow…I'd never have guessed that someone who answers the door wet and wrapped in a towel shelves the loaner King James Bibles. That's even hotter…forbidden even." Wilson looked at House. "And how do you even know this? You still haven't told me why you're early."

"I didn't sleep. I've been trying to figure out why she's a librarylady." He paused. "And can you believe it? She's never heard of "librarianism". I mean, who hasn't?"

Wilson was confused. "What is librarianism?"

House rolled his eyes. "You've never heard of it either?" Wilson shook his head and House kindly informed him of that "degeneration of our social evolution".

Wilson's face contorted as it usually did when House said or did something really stupid. It happened at least once a day. "House, that's gotta be the most stereotypical, sexist thing I've ever heard. Of course there's no such a thing as librarianism." He paused. "Wait a minute: did you say SHE'D never heard of librarianism?" House nodded and Wilson rolled his eyes once again. This was a typical day at PPTH for Dr. James Wilson: the day usually ended with a massive headache, just one of many occupational and friendship hazards of being around Dr. Gregory House. But the headache usually started much later in the day. He just wasn't ready to deal with it this early. "You jackass. You aren't supposed to tell HER that. What'd she say?"

"She railed on me, saying she'd never met someone who treated her the way I did. Personally I thought it was a bit of an overreaction."

"An overreaction?! You're lucky she didn't slug you, which you would've deserved." All this "librarianism" talk got Wilson off the real subject… "Wait a minute! How do you even know she's a librarian anyway? Are you stalking her? Haven't we already had the "stalking is bad; don't do it" discussion?"

"Stop with the Inquisition already! I've only got room for one thing at a time."

"Ok, I'll go slower…" Wilson sat back in his reclining leather desk chair and smirked. "Let's start with the most obvious question: How do you even know she's a librarian?"

House stopped pacing and plunked down into a chair opposite Wilson. Looking around his office, House asked Wilson, "You got anymore doobies? I know you roll and I need SOMETHING man."

"You're still avoiding."

"Fine." House face palmed and sat back in the chair, his baby blues pondering his friend's chocolate browns. "I, um…" he sighed, not sure how to tell his friend that Dr. Gregory House, MD actually set foot into a library on his own accord. Spreading his hands apart, he gestured as he talked: "…ok, here it is: I left here yesterday and ended up at the Princeton Public Library. The library brought back some pretty amazing college memories of the University library: those dark corners and lots of oh-so-eager coeds."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Well, that's starting to explain your fascination with that ludicrous "librarianism" theory. But that's neither here nor there. So…you needed to satisfy yourself so you went to the library? I've heard of some strange things but that's gotta take the cake."

House narrowed his eyes and lifted his cane. "Would you like a rectal exam the HARD way? I did NOT go to the library for personal gratification; I just ended up there."

"Ok, so, you ended up at the library. What happened next?"

"I ran into a matronly old hag and asked if there were any dark corners I could seduce women in and she clutched her chest in disgust. I walked away and someone yelled for an ambulance. Apparently the old broad really did have a heart attack. Who knew?"

Wilson shook his head and he smiled in complete disbelief. "You mean the clutching of her chest wasn't enough of a clue for you?"

"Shut up. I went back and found Shower Girl. She was the one who'd yelled for the ambulance. I stabilized the woman; the ambulance came; and I got Shower Girl's name: Romoly Scott. She's the head librarian."

Wilson nodded. Somehow, all that zaniness made sense; after all, it was House and House wasn't normal people. Now Wilson himself was dying to know more about Romoly Scott. "And let me guess: she's shooting that librarianism theory down isn't she?" House's simple blue-eyed regard for Wilson was enough of an answer. "Wow. She must be beautiful. What'd she look like fully clothed?"

House smiled devilishly. "About 5'7"; caramel color hair; grey eyes. Her hair is highlighted which makes me wonder: do you think the drapes match the carpet?"

Wilson groaned and dropped his face into his hands in dismay. What a typical Houseian comment.

*****


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

House arrived home at around 5 that evening, watching her door as he went past. Noting the newly-arrived "WELCOME" mat (_BLECH! Who uses WELCOME mats, anyway? Only those suffering from librarianism do, that's who…_) and fake lilac wreath on the door, he just about lost his lunch. _Great. She probably goes to a hobbies and crafts store and buys fake flowers to decorate her home; I bet she even scrapbooks. I wonder what all of her cats' names are…Sparky? Coco? Sprinkles? Love-ums? _

At least that dastardly coat rack/fertility god/whatever-it-was-supposed-to-be was gone and he could get into his apartment. He thought too soon because something else had taken its place. It was a simple cardstock envelope taped to his door above the handle, his name in simple writing on the front. Opening it, he pulled out a sheet of paper that said:

What you might get

Isn't what you see,

And who you are

Isn't who you'll be.

So just remember this

When we next meet:

Don't assume you know

The person you greet.

Romoly

He didn't know what to say; no one had ever written him poetry before. _Well, there was that poem Georgia wrote for me. But that doesn't count: she was under the influence of the spirochetes. Romoly certainly can't have syphilis; if you've never had sex you'll never get syphilis. Then why is she writing me poetry? And how am I supposed to take this? We'll just see about this…_

Marching (well, limping with a purpose) to her apartment, he was briefly hoping she'd open the door wearing a teddy or some other naughty underwear. That would certainly spice up his evening but then he remembered what she was…and it became an impossibility. _'Nah. She's a librarian. Probably wears Fruit of the Loom granny panties.'_ Banging on the door loudly with his cane, she opened on the third knock: fully clothed ('_Damn'_) in form-fitting jeans and a fitted magenta t-shirt, she was holding a can of Pledge and a dust rag in her right hand and cradling her cordless phone on her left shoulder. Upon seeing the somewhat agitated doctor, she stared at him, wide-eyed, while she said, "I'll have to call you back." PAUSE. "I know Mom. I'll have to call you back." PAUSE then she rolled her eyes. House couldn't help but smile. "Mom, really, I've gotta go: I just saw a flasher running through the hallway…" House snorted. "…I know! And he isn't even cute. I gotta call the police. Bye Mom." CLICK. She moved the phone from her left shoulder to her left hand and leaned her left arm against the edge of the open door.

"A flasher? Not very original."

Romoly rolled her eyes at House this time and placed her left hand, while still holding the phone, on her left hip. "Well excuse me for not being very original. Just how many good excuses can you make in 35 years? You tell me; I've run out."

"35, huh?" House shook his head. _She was a mere child._ He suddenly had a flash of something akin to guilt: should he have had that sex dream about her the previous night? It was unlike one he'd ever had before. Did this make him a pedophile or something? Mentally slapping himself to get back on subject, House grinned. "I ran out of excuses at 40; now I just don't call."

Romoly shook her head. "That's not going to happen for me; if I didn't call my mother on at least a semi-regular basis she'll have the FBI, CIA, NSA, The Green Berets, Delta Force and the A-Team looking for me. I can't win so I usually have to get pretty creative. A flasher running through my building isn't exactly my A-game but, then, you scared me. I don't think you quite realize how scary you are." She paused and studied him, taking in his full…and very impressive…self. Back to the real subject at hand. "Did you need something? Or did you come all this way, across the hall, to count my cross-stitch pillows or meet my twelve cats?"

He ignored that and held up the white envelope. "Can you explain this?"

Romoly looked at the envelope rather matter-of-factly. "Of course but I didn't think it needed explanation: it's white; it's square-shaped; it holds folded pieces of paper. See how it makes a pocket? Quite ingenious, don't you think?"

"Are you always this annoying?"

"Only when provoked."

"Huh. Well, then, if I need to spell it out for you," he removed the piece of paper and waved it in front of her. "What…is…this?" He waved the paper at "this".

"Oh, well why didn't you say so?" Romoly smiled brilliantly. "That's a piece of paper. It's made from wood pulp and has been used for hundreds of years as a means of communication."

Now House was fuming but, no matter how he tried, he couldn't help loving this swapping of snarkiness. _She's just as annoying as I can be. This should be very interesting._ He held the paper up melodramatically as he began reading the poem. When he finished, he looked at her and waved the paper. "What is the meaning of this POEM," he pointed to the words, "that you left on my door."

"That's for you to figure out. If I gave it away it would spoil the surprise. Have a great evening Dr. House." And, with that, she shut the door in his face.

"Bu…???" he asked the lilac wreath suddenly staring him in the face. That was the second time she shut the door, without getting a straight answer. He wasn't sure how he liked it but he couldn't deny the delectability of her spunk. He couldn't wait for their next sparring match.

*****

Romoly leaned against the door, thumping the top of the cordless against her forehead and slowly taking deep breaths until she heard the STEP-STEP-THUMP of his steps fade away. "What am I doing?" she quietly asked herself. She'd never been this bold with a man before and she'd certainly never let anyone read her poetry. But he'd made her so mad she'd pulled out the "big guns". Words had been the most effective way she knew to fight back; they'd been her only friends when people let her down. That was why she was a librarian; why she wrote poetry…and why she did avoid the world. But it certainly wasn't "repression" that buried Romoly Adele Scott from the rest of the world; it was her intimate knowledge of the world that sent her running from it.

And she'd never felt so compelled to explain, and defend, herself to someone else. Usually she genuinely didn't care. She just didn't know what it was about this sexist, snarky…yet incredibly sexy…doctor and neighbor that made her do this. And she genuinely couldn't believe she was letting this get to her. Romoly had always been strong; a fighter; someone who never let the bully intimidate her. But the bully had never been this aggravating…or this hot.

At least he didn't laugh at her poetry. If he had…that…there would've been no words for the pain she'd have felt. And with no expectations of anything in return, she simply hoped she had a chance to change his mind.

*****


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Cameron, you're a girl, right?" House asked, distractedly sitting at his desk, his legs up on the desk, still reading the poem Romoly gave him the day before as he asked Cameron his question.

Since Dr. Alison Cameron was the only Cameron, and only other person for that matter, in the room, she had to assume he was talking to the Dr. Alison Cameron he'd known for three years. And, since House made a special effort to page her from the ER to get her upstairs to ask such a question, she decided to take him seriously. Clearing her throat, she said, with an incredulous and confused look on her face, "Yes House…the last time I checked I was."

House motioned for her to come closer to his desk. She reluctantly shuffled over and House handed her the poem. "Good. Translate this for me…the womanese makes it a difficult read. Tell me what you think."

She did as he asked and, by the time she was done, her confusion and incredulous look had softened. "It's very good." His look was a bit too eager so she asked, "What do YOU think it is?"

"I asked first."

"And I asked second." His eyebrow lifted at her answer. "I'm not going to tell you first because you'll just parrot back everything I tell you as your own opinion."

House rolled his eyes. "Fine; be obstinate. I think it says that she isn't who I think she is."

Cameron nodded slowly. "You've got the gist. Who is she?"

"My gardener."

"But you don't have a garden."

"And you don't have a penis. Your point would be??"

Cameron sighed and shook her head. "Do you really want to know or not?" House sighed and nodded. She rolled her eyes. "Fine. We'll go two lines at a time: 'What you might get, isn't what you see,'. Not everything is tangible and we get intangible things all the time. 'And who you are, isn't who you'll be.'. People change. 'So just remember this, when we next meet: Don't assume you know the person you greet.' First impressions aren't always correct." She gave the paper back to him who just stared at it, blankly. "My guess is you've pissed her off with your assumptions and she's telling you that you're wrong." Cameron tried one more time to pry her identity out of him. "Who is she, anyway?"

"My dog walker."

"So you're not going to tell me who," Cameron took back the page and read it again, "Romoly is?"

"Do I need to spell it out? I'm not going to tell you. This DDX is done; go sew back eyeballs or bandage butts or whatever it is you do down there. I'm bored with you."

Cameron rolled her eyes, threw the poem on his desk and walked out. _**Same ole House…except this woman must really be getting to him…and he to her. Very, very interesting…**_

*****


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

When he arrived at his apartment, he found yet another white envelope with yet another "Dr. House" written across the front. He opened it with a sigh and found more poetry…

**Which are You?**

There are two kinds of people on earth to-day;

Just two kinds of people, no more, I say.

Not the sinner and saint, for it's well understood,

The good are half bad, and the bad are half good.

Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man's wealth,

You must first know the state of his conscience and health.

Not the humble and proud, for in life's little span,

Who puts on vain airs, is not counted a man.

Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years

Bring each man his laughter and each man his tears.

No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean,

Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.

Wherever you go, you will find the earth's masses,

Are always divided in just these two classes.

And oddly enough, you will find too, I wean,

There's only one lifter to twenty who lean.

In which class are you? Are you easing the load,

Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road?

Or are you a leaner, who lets others share

Your portion of labor, and worry and care?

**Ella Wheeler Wilcox**

Which of these are you,

Oh my miserable, petulant neighbor?

Are you the easing lifter

And work another's hefty labor?

Or are you a leaner,

One who takes the advantage

Of his burdened best friend,

Who is at the disadvantage?

Please just stop and think

Of these simple, written words,

Do they prick your heart

Like the beak of a bird?

Or will you easily dismiss

With lash of your tongue,

These vital words and feelings

Of a librarian so young?

Will you dismiss me quickly,

Just because of my job?

Or will you dismiss me

Just to see me sob?

Don't you dare tell me

How you know me true;

How can you possibly know

What I have been through?

**Romoly**

Now House was mad: it was unfair how she was doing this, throwing all these rhyming words at him without a chance to defend himself. Growling he made the long trip from his door to hers and, for the second time in two days, banged loudly with his cane. And, once again, she opened on the third knock, only this time wearing a sky-blue terry cloth robe; hair pulled up in a bun; and face red and cosmetic-less. She looked terrible…but House didn't notice: he caught the majestic view of the valley between her perky breasts as they rose to a crescendo at the top of the robe. Either he was hearing things or going senile but he could've sworn her chest was enticingly singing his name. _'Oh sweet valley,'_ he thought, thoroughly distracted.

"Well, well, well," House said once he pulled his head out of her valley, still letting his eyes roam her personage. "I see you got all dressed up just for me. I love clothes that come off with the flick of a wrist," he pointed his cane to her cinched robe belt.

Suddenly alarm bells went off in his head: _**SHE'S A LIBRARIAN! SHE'S A LIBRARIAN!!! She's the enemy; she stands for everything that would spoil your fun; she's the devil with a killer body. Don't fall for anything she gives you…stay strong! You're right; librarianism is an epidemic that you, as a healer, must eradicate! And here's your first patient…**_

_**Gotta keep focused man,**_ he told himself, still taking in her ensemble. _**You will not let her change your mind. Still…**_ he concentrated on the sight in front of him. _**…that doesn't mean she can't do whatever she wants to try and prove me wrong. But it won't happen; I'm just too good.**_

Romoly rolled her eyes and, as if to protect herself from his "flick of a wrist" she wrapped her arms around the belt. He huffed and snapped out of his trance, suddenly remembering the paper in his hand. Waving it at her, he said, "Would you stop leaving these? And why are you leaving them in the first place? Do I look like someone who might appreciate them?"

She leaned against the end of the open door, her eyes portraying no emotion as she took in his fiery blue ones. If she hadn't actually had a purpose to sending him the poetry, she still would've done it just to see the way his face animated; his eyes flashed; his long, lean body tense. Basically, she loved to see him squirm. "Let me guess: you needed a female to interpret the last poem for you?" He squirmed some more and she knew she'd nailed it. "Why are you really upset? Huh? Or do you even know?"

"I don't get you, lady; you sit when you're supposed to stand; you dance when you're supposed to skip. I can't pin you down."

"Ah…" she nodded. "I'm an enigma."

"No…more like an anomaly. Enigmas are complete mysteries: you aren't. You're an anomaly because you don't fit into the mold you've placed yourself in."

"Or…" everything was starting to become even clearer; she was beginning to truly understand him. "I don't fit into the mold YOU'VE placed me in?" Romoly narrowed her eyes. "Does this go back to that librarianism thing?"

House began pacing, wearing out his "Welcome"; well, more like wearing out the "Welcome" mat. "Of course it does. You're supposed to be what I first thought you were."

"Ah…" Romoly nodded again, understanding even more. She realized she was wrong about House in some ways. She first thought he was an incredibly sexy, narcissistic, egomaniacal jerk upset because the world wasn't the way he wanted it; now she realized he was just a DISILLUSIONED incredibly sexy, narcissistic, egomaniacal jerk upset because the world wasn't the way he wanted it. For some odd reason, Romoly Scott felt sympathy for the guy; he thought (and wanted) the world to be a certain way and he's finding its not. _**'He's just an overgrown 5-year-old upset because the world really isn't what he thought it was.' **_

"Would it help if I were to wear a cross-stitched sweatshirt and got some cats?" she asked, not quite believing that she was starting to not only LIKE Dr. House, but that her simple, unexplainable desire for the undesirable just jumped ten-fold. Maybe she should see a psychiatrist or something.

House started at this. "It might…you really don't have cats?"

Romoly shook her head. "I'm not much of a pet person. I get too wrapped up in other things and the poor thing gets neglected. I've tried having a dog but gave it back a week later. Don't get me wrong; I love furry, domesticated creatures." She smiled and looked him straight in the eye. "That's why I'm a heterosexual."

House had to smile at this. "Ha. Aren't you a riot?" He held up the paper again. "So what am I supposed to do about this?"

Romoly shrugged. "That's for you to decide; this is the method I've chosen for communicating with you. If you want to talk back, fine. No matter what you might think, I don't want anything from you; I just want us to live as peaceful neighbors." _(__**Romoly, you are such a liar: LIAR, LIAR, LIAR!**__)_ Pushing that aside, she smiled…she was going to throw a rhyme in at him, to see if he was actually listening. "You don't have to use poetry and you don't have to use prose; but whatever you say, I'm sure it'll be as sweet as a rose."

House rolled his eyes. "You tried to sneak that one in, didn't you? You thought I wouldn't catch on. Well, sorry, little girl, I'm wise to your games."

"I'm not THAT little."

House looked her up and down; no matter how much he attempted to deny how he could feel about a librarian, she certainly wasn't a little girl. She was very much a woman…a woman he was having trouble leaving alone; a woman he was having trouble forgetting about. He turned around and, limping away he muttered under his breath, just low enough she couldn't hear him, "No…you certainly aren't."

*****


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"She's writing me poetry!" SLAM! This time, when House slammed Wilson's door, Wilson really did fall out of his chair, landing unceremoniously on the ground.

"Would you stop that?!?!?!" Wilson grunted as picked himself off the floor and moved his chair back to his desk, mumbling about the insanity of his life and why he remained friends with a person who so obviously wanted to send him to an early grave. Once his erratically beating heart slowed, Wilson shook his head and leaned back in his chair, hoping to get some leverage for the next time House scared him out of it. "And can't you start a conversation with a complete thought?? Why do you continuously leave me guessing as to the origins of your conversations? I'm sure, somewhere, there's a "Dummies Guide to Conversation: How to Effectively Begin and End a Conversation" series somewhere. If they've got a "Dummies Guide to Underwater Basket Weaving" and "Dummies Guide to How to Cinch a Girdle" they should have what you're looking for."

Now House, who'd by this time pulled up a seat during Wilson's diatribe, was watching Wilson in painful fascination. "They have "Dummies" guides to girdle cinching and underwater basket weaving?"

Wilson shrugged. "They could."

House thumped his cane on the floor. "She's sending me poetry."

"I caught that during the quick but painful trip from my chair to the floor. Who is sending you poetry?"

"Take a wild guess."

Wilson's eyebrow rose. "The librarian? Shower girl?" House nodded. "Why?"

House shrugged and watched his thumping cane, even though he knew the answer. "I don't know."

Wilson's lifted eyebrow rose even further, if that was possible. "You don't KNOW??" He studied his friend. "Of course you know. Do you have the poems?"

House nodded and slid them across the desk. Wilson read each one then whistled. "Wow, these are really good. I certainly wish I'd had this Wilcox one. I could've pulled that one on you a long time ago."

"Ha. What should I do?"

"Do you know what they mean?"

"Yep."

Wilson paused, waiting for more than just a 'yep'. When it didn't come, he attempted to pry. "Well? What do you want to do?"

House began thumping his cane again, then shrugged. "I don't know. It's obvious she's upset about something."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Oh, you think?!?! You don't think it has anything to do with that librarianism comment?" Wilson studied the rather harried look his friend wore. "Wow…she's got you in a tizzy."

"I'm not in a tizzy."

Wilson grinned broadly. "Oh you SO are; you wouldn't be here, yelling at me now, if you weren't." Wilson reread the poems. "She's probably mad because you've said she's something she's obviously not. From what I saw when we first met …" and both men each took a moment of silence, remembering that glorious womanly figure, "…she's anything but stuffy. She's obviously smart, talented and well learned."

House wanted, more than anything, to deny that; he wanted her to be boring and stuffy and so everything he didn't want a woman to be; that way he'd be right…and he wouldn't be quite so bothered with her. But the more the woman invaded his psyche and the more she answered the door in simple bathrobes or even boring jeans, the more she dispelled everything he wanted to believe.

"But, House…" Wilson was continuing as he leaned across the desk. Smiling, his eyes twinkled. "…she obviously likes you. She's put quite an effort into proving she's not what you think she is. If she didn't find you the least bit…something…she wouldn't let this bother her so much and she certainly wouldn't be doing her best to change your view of what she is." Wilson paused then smiled deeper. "I think you should write her a poem back."

House fell back in his seat as if someone had punched him. "Are you serious? You mean get all artsy-fartsy and in touch with my inner flower? You want me to dance naked by the light of the silvery moon, drum beats and harmonicas lighting the way to my inner artiste?"

Wilson stopped thinking and chose that moment of thoughtlessness to get sidetracked from the subject at hand to ask, "Do you think Romoly prances around naked in her apartment for inspiration?"

House's eyes took on a glazed look and his mouth fell open as he pictured his beautiful neighbor prancing around naked mere feet away from him…as he lay in bed…alone and in need of female companionship. For once he was actually speechless. Finding his voice, House coughed and nodded vigorously. "If she does I wouldn't mind sitting in on that creative process."

"You're telling me."

House shook his head and quickly brought the subject back to where it was before; he really didn't want Wilson thinking of Romoly like that. "Wilson, are you on crack? What a stupid thing to ask: write my own poetry? Please…" he huffed indignantly.

Wilson tried to quickly snap back to the present but visions of Romoly swaying her naked perfection seductively proved that task difficult. He coughed and began again… "That was yesterday; today I'm huffing glue. And if poem-writing involves you getting naked then just forget it. The very thought of you naked and dancing under the light of the silvery moon just made me nauseous. And writing poetry is repulsive to you, I know…but you can write her a poem that doesn't involve emotions and pretty much states what you think about poetry writing in general. In fact, if it sucked she'd know you can't communicate on her intelligence level and either she'll pick a medium suited for the five-year-old you are…or she'll leave you alone and you can go back to your dull, miserable life. The choice is yours."

Ignoring his last comment, House thought about it. And the more he thought about it, the more the crazy idea actually made sense in his twisted mind. Most people would've thought Wilson was insane and just have left it at that but, again, House isn't normal people. "Write a crappy poem to discourage her, you say?" Wilson shrugged then nodded. "Why not? But you're gonna write it for me."

Wilson smiled. "I wouldn't miss this for all the tea in China."

*****

It had been a very long day at the library so Romoly couldn't get home until 8:00 that night, versus the usual 4:30 she loved. She was tired, hungry and just wanted to turn on the TV to distract her from her day. She wasn't a bubble bath sort of girl and she didn't do yoga or breathing exercises to relax; in fact, she usually read to unwind but she just couldn't bring herself to do the one activity that actually sent her into her current condition. _'The one day that Fran the Storyteller had to call in sick was the one day the huge field trips from the area schools came over for story time. Four straight hours of reading books to hundreds of squirming, noisy kids, trying to get them engaged in what you are doing.'_ She loved kids but hundreds with only two ten-minute breaks hopefully thrown in there…somewhere? Absolute insanity.

Tiredly shuffling inside to her first-floor apartment while lugging her purse, briefcase and rotisserie chicken dinner from the local deli (since she certainly wasn't cooking that night), she almost dropped everything when she saw a sloppily folded piece of paper stuck to her door, a just as sloppily-written ANNOYING NEIGHBOR plastered on the outside of it. Of course she immediately knew who wrote it; she didn't need to be a brain surgeon to figure that one out.

Gently setting her belongings down, she carefully removed the paper from the door and unfolded it, immediately smiling as she read it…

I didn't want to do this,

I really just wanted to win.

My friend Jimmy helped me;

What a kick in the shin.

This poem I write

For you on this day

Has made me a schmuck

So what'd you gotta say?

I've done this deed,

Now I'm in dismay

Do me a favor,

And throw this away.

Cranky Next Door Neighbor

PS I'm not writing another one of these damn things, since the earth has now stopped and the Apocalypse is upon us. I'm only writing because Jimmy said it would repulse you to stop writing to me. Has it? Anyway, just burn this. If I ever find this in your apartment when I awake the morning after (and it's gonna happen…you know you want it), I will hurt you. I'm a doctor….I can do it.

Romoly smiled wider and just shook her head. Picking up her belongings, she did something that House clearly didn't seem capable of…she went inside, without a backwards glance at his door, and acted like the poem was something she got everyday. Romoly was speechless but she knew she wasn't ever going to ask him about it. She'd realized how much pride he probably swallowed when he made himself go to his best friend to help him write it.

But the poem meant a lot to her: as terrible and as forced as both House and the poem were, Romoly had never received poetry from a man. Ever. And however unique and impossible the current situation was, for some reason it was the most beautiful piece of literature she'd ever read, simply because it was written just for her.

_If I ever find this in your apartment when I awake the morning after (and it's gonna happen…you know you want it)_…_**am I really that transparent? Or is that the inflated ego?**_ She certainly hoped it was the former; at least that was something she had control over.

And she wasn't about to stop leaving him poetry. This was too much fun…and his cranky note only spurred her on.

*****


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"The patient presented with…" 13 held up a file and proceeded to list off the symptoms of their newest patient…but House wasn't listening. As much as he loved listening to lists of symptoms (and sometimes he wondered if orgasm by DDX was simply wrong somehow; but he just didn't care: it felt oh so good) he couldn't keep his mind on the symptoms. He was watching 13, the way her hair moved when she moved, long and fine with a hint of wave. The way her blue eyes, huge and beautiful, lit when they were on to something big; the way her hips moved underneath that stuffy lab coat. _'I really do have the best job,' _he thought smugly. _'Cameron's still pining for me; 13's my new Cameron…and Shower Girl?'_ This made House sit back in his chair.

Shower girl…Romoly… She was a pest. How could someone he rarely saw be a pest? House inadvertently rubbed the skin at the back of his neck, underneath his hairline. _'Ah, right there…that's where she's at. No matter how I rub she's there taunting me, teasing me…that's where those hot shivers come whenever I see her.'_ And he wasn't about to admit the effect she had on him. House found himself thinking about her…like at that moment…when he should be thinking about the patient and how to win yet another case. Yep; it wasn't about curing the patient anymore; it was never really about curing the patient. It was about proving he was right and prevailing over whatever illness the patient had. Sick and twisted as this may be…that was House's life.

'_I wonder what Romoly would be like if I…'_

"House?" a young woman's voice broke through the haze of daydream. "House?" the voice spoke up but House didn't want to acknowledge it…not just yet. Romoly was too good of a dream to let them take her away. "HOUSE!" Apparently 13 had recruited the rest of the team and the added male voices was just the jolt he needed.

"What?" He looked at them dumbly.

The team rolled their eyes. "Have you listened to anything we've said?" Dr. Kutner asked.

House dumbly shook his head. "Of course not." Though slowly getting used to this kind of behavior from their boss, they still didn't know what to do as House took the patient's file. Skimming over the symptoms quickly, House shook his head and said, "This is too easy. I can't believe you took me away from my daydreaming for something as elementary as Addison's. Give her a shot of Cortisol…she'll be fine."

They read the symptoms, looked at each other in horrified realization and shuffled off to do his bidding.

House felt confined; he had to get out of there. "I didn't see her last night; the note was off the door. I'll go see her now." And, with that, he picked up his belongings and limped out of the hospital in determination.

*****


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

As she was re-shelving books, Romoly was quietly repeating the words she'd memorized: "This poem I write, for you on this day has made me a schmuck; so what'd you gotta say?..." And in as many times as she repeated the words, she always shook her head afterwards. Dr. House was truly something else.

"Where's Romoly?" his voice suddenly filled the library. She scrunched her face in confusion and turned the corner at the end of a shelf to see House's back to her, inquiring after her to the replacement patron services manager. Wanda, the nice grandmother of 3 and former burlesque dancer (that's right…and Romoly had been floored when she first heard that, for five years, when Wanda had run away from home at 16, she joined a burlesque dance company in New York. It wasn't until she met a nice minister who took her away from that life that she found the security and love she needed. _'Oh, just wait until Dr. House hears about Wanda,'_ Romoly thought with a smile. _'He'll eat crow…and I wouldn't mind serving it to him on a silver platter.'_), was going to be out for a few more days so Maureen was subbing for her.

Romoly took a deep breath and smoothed out the wrinkles of her brown trousers; modestly open-buttoned long-sleeve sky-blue oxford shirt left un-tucked; and matching sky-blue and brown form-fitting sweater vest, then made her way to stand behind him. "Well, howdy stranger. You've got some nerve comin' round these parts. Perhaps I should call the Sheriff."

House turned around and smiled…and was struck by the beauty of her personage. Romoly's wardrobe, while conservative and layered, accentuated the curves of her hips and waist. House, once again, became entranced by the cleavage that wasn't even showing. He would've had to be imagining it in order to see it.

Deciding to nip this thing in the butt, House raised an eyebrow and leaned over. "Do you whip those puppies out whenever you talk to men? Are you that dull that you need to use your breasts to get your point across?"

Romoly looked down her shirt and, of course, not seeing her cleavage, simply shook her head. "And top o' da mornin' to you. Have you come here for something specific, like, oh, say, a book perhaps? Or were you bored this morning and just needed a diversion? You know, I never found out why you were here that day. Was that another day you were bored and, giving helpless women heart attacks is just your sick, twisted way of trying to cop a feel?"

"No…that's only with the pretty ones." House smirked. "Do you want to know what I said that sent Miss Mary the Virgin into cardiac arrest?"

Romoly really should've said no…it was on the tip of her tongue…but her brain really, really needed to know. She'd been dying of curiosity ever since it happened. "What did you say?"

House leaned down conspiratorially and said, "I asked her, "Do you have any dark, quiet corners handy for seducing women?" I think her answer was no but I'm still unclear:" House smirked and looked down her shirt again. "do you?"

Romoly's eyes widened in confusion: not about what he had asked (because he wasn't the sort to ambiguously ask for something sexual; from her experience, he just came right out with it.) but why Wanda, the former burlesque dancer, would have a heart attack about something like that.

"Really? She had a heart attack about that? I thought you asked her something really naughty."

It was House's turn to be confused. "What do you mean?"

"Wanda used to be a burlesque dancer."

Now House was upset that Romoly would stoop to deception to have the upper hand; while so very House…it was reserved for only House's exclusive use. Besides, he didn't want to think of Wanda as a burlesque dancer. Other than the most obvious ewwww factor (the old broad wasn't currently in burlesque shape), it would prove, once more, that librarianism really didn't exist. "No; Wanda wasn't a burlesque dancer."

"Do you think I am making that up?"

"Of course. You'd stoop to any level to prove I was wrong about you. Granted, if I find out you're lying I'd be hornier than the horniest of horny toads you have in any of the books in your library. Deception can be extremely sexy."

"Well, Dr. House," Romoly turned around and began walking back to her office, located at the back of the library. House followed, hot on her heels. "get out your garden hose and ice chips because I'm not lying. In fact, Wanda will be back to work here soon; you can ask her yourself." When they got to her door, she stopped, turned around, placed her hand on the door handle and leaned against the door. "And you never answered my question: why were you here in the first place?"

Looking around and not seeing anyone within earshot or seeing range, House limped toward her until he was about 3 feet away. His voice lowered to a whisper. "I was casing the joint for my next date. And I still don't believe you about the burlesque dancer."

Romoly simply shrugged as if she didn't care. And she didn't because she knew she was right (after all, Wanda had brought in old pictures of her burlesque days and everyone believed her) and whether House believed it or not wasn't up to her. Romoly was only responsible for proving herself to him. And she wanted to oh so badly. Still watching House, who hadn't moved an inch, she was trying to figure out what his brain was doing…and getting absolutely no where.

Just as Romoly was about to do something to get him to back away, he gravelly whispered, "Did you get my note last night?" She nodded. "And?"

She grinned a little and, inadvertently, let her gaze stray to his lips, his scruffy chin, the white patch of scruff just off to the side of his mouth. His mouth was full and pink, too inviting for a nibble. _**'Get a grip Rom,'**_she told herself as she quickly moved her gaze from his mouth to his…nose…anywhere but his eyes and mouth. _**'You're confused and you've been lonely for way too long. That's why you feel the way you do about this joker. Don't fall victim to his evil charms…don't…do…it…'**_

Too late…he'd noticed where her gaze went and chuckled deeply, allowing his knowledge of her actions to shine on his face. He wanted her to know he'd caught her. "Do you know what it's like to kiss a man?"

"I'm 35 years old; I wasn't raised in a convent."

"Oh…defensive." It was his turn to watch her lips…and what he saw enticed him to no end: pink, full and trembling, they spoke volumes, just to him: 'We want you; we need you; come on baby, give it to us'. "I've never actually deflowered a woman but it should be interesting. What if we set up an appointment for sex education?" He gave a quickly glance around the library. "What kind of sex books you got around here?" He lowered his voice once again to a gravelly whisper. "You got any sexy pop-up books?" He paused, his entire face smiling at the thought. "I'd offer my personal collection but they're very worn and you wouldn't get the full effect. After all, it would be a tragedy for a woman to die a virgin; talk about a wasted life. Don't you agree?"

She hadn't planned on telling him anything about her past but she had a feeling it would come up again. She needed to be ready but she just didn't want to deal with this…nor him…at that moment. And it was a good thing: she was so livid she couldn't even see straight. This was beginning to go beyond ignorance…he was insulting her. "I think you should leave now."

His eyes widened at her tone. He had a feeling he'd crossed the line but it was too late to backpedal; besides, he didn't make it a general practice to apologize. So he just did what she said and backed up. Before turning around, he tilted his head. "How does one spell 'librarianism' anyway?" Winking, he spun on his heel and hobbled out of the library, his head held high.

She narrowed her eyes after him and absorbed what he just said to her. While she could try to convince herself all that he was bad and crude and just the opposite of everything she needed…she couldn't convince her heart that he wasn't everything she wanted.

Romoly Adele Scott had once had a man she thought she needed…and all that brought her was deception, fear and constant shame. After finally fleeing from that life fully and completely, she stopped listening to what she needed. She'd just never found anything she wanted…

Until now.

And wanting what everyone will tell you is the wrong thing felt oh so good…and oh so bad…at the same time.

*****


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

When House got home that night, after a long day of DDXing, he found another poem taped to his door…

You limp through life

With a half hearted soul

Your manner is terrible,

Some call you a troll.

You have buried deeply

That great soul so hurt;

You endeavor to wound

By acting brash and curt.

All you've ever wanted

Was a little soulful peace;

Instead, what'd you get?

Torture that fails to cease.

What you really need

You can't seem to find;

Have you really looked,

Or have you been blind?

What you really need

Is all around, beside you.

Have you actually stopped

To check out the view?

Take a quick look

At how your life is.

And really ask yourself,

"Is this what life tis?"

**Romoly**

PS…

Dr. House,

This poem reminds me of you…

And now I have a deeper understanding

Of who you are and what you're going through.

**Romoly**

**I Am!**

I AM! yet what I am none cares or knows,

My friends forsake me like a memory lost;

I am the self-consumer of my woes,

They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,

Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;

And yet I am! and live with shadows tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,

Into the living sea of waking dreams,

Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,

But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;

And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--

Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;

A place where woman never smil'd or wept;

There to abide with my creator, God,

And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:

Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;

The grass below--above the vaulted sky.

**John Clare**

"Perfect," House muttered, rereading the poems without moving a muscle to walk in his apartment. "Not another Wilson. I don't need another person telling me how my life sucks and what I need to do to fix it. I already know."

Once again, just like before, he marched over to her door and, poising his cane to knock, the door flew open instead. "GET OUT OF THE WAY! IT'S A BAT!" Romoly screamed as she stood at the door with a broom in her hand, poised for attack, standing between House and the supposedly impending danger. House immediately ducked; he wasn't an idiot.

"A what? A bat? Where is it?" House, still crouching as low as he comfortably could, grabbed the bottom of his cane and began swinging with the handle swiping furiously through the air. House looked up in time to see a grey, furry flying rodent zoom over him and through an open window in the apartment building's hallway.

"Whew!"

House turned back to Romoly who was staring at the scene and holding her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Where'd that come from?"

"Good question: I just got home," she indicated the brown-and-blue trouser outfit she still wore, "and I went to use the bathroom. Just as I flicked on the lights, I heard frantic flapping and saw the bat leave its perch from somewhere behind the shower curtain, then start its low-descent swooping. I ran from the bathroom and it followed me. When you arrived, I'd just managed to coax it to the front door."

"What you do, promise to flash your breasts if it followed you?"

"Would it have worked?"

House smirked. "If I were that bat and you'd promise to whip those babies out, I'd follow you anywhere," he smoothly drawled.

Tilting her head inside, she indicated for House to follow, which he did. Padding into the kitchen, he saw that she'd been ready to cook dinner: spaghetti with meat sauce, garlic bread and vegetable medley. Romoly began chopping an onion to put with the ground sirloin for the meat sauce. "Would you like dinner?"

"Is the Pope a Catholic?" House grinned and sat on a barstool at her breakfast table. Watching her move around the kitchen, he suddenly asked a question he'd been dying to for, well, quite a long time now. "What is it with you?"

She effortlessly slid the chopped onions from the white plastic cutting board into the frying pan which sizzled with the cooking spray. Adding the meat, she threw House a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"What is it with you? One minute you're nice to me; the next you're getting mad; then you write me a poem that's supposed to make me feel guilty about the state of my life when it just makes **me** mad; then you're asking me to stay for dinner. You're so hot and cold I can't keep up."

Truth was, as much as she'd love to avoid him she couldn't bring herself to do so. He made her mad when they were together but she had to see him while they were apart. She just didn't know how he'd respond to this so she made up an excuse.

"I'm ovulating; you'll have to excuse me. I'm just not making sense."

House's eyes widened and he turned to the brass coat rack/fertility god/whatever-it-was-supposed-to-be standing beside the front door, making itself very useful holding her jackets and bags. "Uh oh," House moaned.

"What?" she asked, having turned back to the stove.

"You're ovulating; you have a fertility statue," he pointed to the coat rack when she turned around to give him a confused look, "and I'm a very virile male. So…" he took in her body, still amazed a body like hers had never been touched by a male. Or so he thought. "…if you're gonna get pregnant you might as well have fun in the process and not wait for the Immaculate Conception. But if I'm gonna be a dad would you let me know?"

Romoly rolled her eyes. "That is not a fertility statue! It's a coat rack." She turned her back to him and, seeing the meat was finished, added spaghetti sauce and let the meat simmer as she put water on to boil for the pasta.

House shrugged, still not convinced. "So you say. But…just to make sure…" he stood up and limped over to her, her back still to him as he allowed his breath to linger above her shirt collar. He watched how her hair was sloppily but skillfully pulled up using two pencils as hair sticks. House leaned even further and whispered in her ear, "I think we should give the old-fashioned-way a whirl, don't you?"

Romoly turned around. "Not before dinner." She moved away from him so she could start breathing again and began pulling dinnerware from the cabinets, which he noticed were only half full. In fact, he finally noticed there weren't any moving boxes still sitting around. Either she was a very fast unpacker or she didn't have much. Which fascinated him to no end.

"You got unpacked awfully quickly. Where is everything?"

"Did you get the poems?"

"Avoidance: not a very attractive quality."

"You should know."

He smiled. _She was good…very good. _"Why do you keep leaving me poems? I know you say it's how you'll communicate with me but why can't we have a normal conversation?"

"Are you capable of normal conversation?"

"Sure…it just depends on what we're talking about."

Romoly nodded and added the spaghetti to the boiling water. "I see; if we're talking about sex, medicine or sports, we'll have a normal conversation; everything else would pretty much be one-sided: the person speaking. Very nice." She shook her head then turned to watch him hobble back to the breakfast table carrying the dinnerware, cups and utensils. She watched in shock as he set the table, something she neither asked nor expected.

'_Well, the poetry seems to be working…we're talking,'_ Romoly thought, returning her attention to the food preparation. The reason she starting leaving the poems in the first place was because she knew he'd come pestering her about them, which meant they'd have more time to talk. Romoly knew how naturally inquisitive he was; she saw it everyday with the people, especially the children, who came into the library. It was like an obsession for this man, one that she was going to take full advantage of. When he was wrapped around her little finger, then she might tell him. But why rock the boat now?

A few minutes later dinner was done and just as they were sitting down to eat, House said, "Did you ever learn how to spell 'librarianism'?"

Perhaps that was his not-so-subtle reminder that, despite dinner, he was still hanging on to that absurd stereotype.

*****


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

And so it went that each evening for the next few weeks, House would find a poem on his door; he would end up at her doorstep and they would either talk a few minutes or she would feed him, depending on when he came and if she was hungry. And, over the course of those weeks, House made his second friend…but neither truly knew each other. Neither took the time, during those brief moments every night, to really educate each other about themselves. They just wanted to be in each other's presence which surprised each to no end. There was a lot of snarky banter, with glimpses of insight but nothing substantial…and Romoly knew this just wasn't enough. She needed more: she had to know why she thought about a man she knew so little about…and why what she did know of him was nothing necessarily good. Perhaps if she did a bit of investigating on her own, she'd discover why she was attracted to him. Or maybe she shouldn't learn more; it might scare her from him even more. Upon learning he worked at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, she took an afternoon off and headed to his domain.

Walking over to the front desk, Romoly smiled at the slightly overtaxed girl. "Good afternoon…" Romoly leaned over to read her nametag. "Doreen. I'm looking for someone who might be working here but I don't know for sure; I don't even know his name," She chuckled. Doreen was curious; she didn't get many requests like this. "I do know he's a friend of Dr. Gregory House."

Poor Doreen: she simply rolled her eyes in disgust and agitation at the mention of "Dr. House". "Well, Dr. House only has one friend: Dr. James Wilson. He's the head of Oncology."

Romoly smiled. "Does this Dr. James Wilson have dark, rather floppy hair; huge chocolate eyes and dimples you can dive into?"

Doreen gave a girlish sigh and nodded. Romoly wondered if this was a common reaction from women. Doreen turned to the elevators behind her and pointed. "Take the elevator to the third floor; make a left at the statue and it's at the end of the hall." Doreen turned back to her, curious about why she wanted the friend of Dr. House; after all, it sounded like she knew Dr. House.

Romoly simply smiled. She already had a good idea what Doreen (and probably the rest of the hospital) was subjected to with Dr. House. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it." Doreen smiled happily; she was happy to help. And she didn't usually get such nice people through the doors so this beautiful woman was a nice change of pace.

"Sure. And have a nice day."

"You too."

*****

Getting off the elevator, Romoly found the statue and followed her directions. Quickly locating his open door, she took a deep breath and stepped under the doorframe. Inside she found the right guy: the guy who was with Dr. House when she first met him. And Dr. Wilson was as cute as she remembered: that dark hair that flopped where any which way; those dark, dark chocolate eyes and deep dimples. Dr. Wilson didn't notice anyone standing at his open door as he was engaged in reading what looked to be a patient file. Lightly knocking, Romoly quietly, almost timidly asked, "Dr. Wilson?"

He looked up and, for a minute looked incredibly confused…then it hit him who this was: Shower Girl!

"Do you remember me, Dr. Wilson?"

He most certainly did.

*****

"Of course I do, Sh…" Wilson was so shocked at seeing her at his door…and fully clothed…that he almost called her "Shower Girl". How embarrassing would THAT have been? "Of course I do. But I don't believe I know your name Miss…" He flashed her his "this will get anything I want" dimple; it was guaranteed 90% effective.

Romoly smiled; she was…and yet wasn't…fooled by his charm. "Hasn't Dr. House told you? From what I can see, you two spend quite a bit of time together."

Wilson blushed and Romoly's smile turned goofy. _I'm really falling for the wrong man,_ Romoly admitted to herself. _I should go for his best friend. He's pretty amazing._ "Ok, you got me Ms. Romoly Scott." Wilson stood up and made his way around the huge desk, coming to stand in front of her but still inside the office. "Come in, come in," he said, waving his hand inside and shutting the door behind them. This made Romoly a bit uncomfortable and, noting this, Wilson pointed to a club chair in front of his desk, where he parked himself on the edge. Romoly sat down a bit apprehensively. "I shut the door because House's office is next door; he has a tendency to barge in. You don't want him knowing you're here, do you?"

Romoly shook her head; that would not be good. When she didn't say anything for a few moments, Wilson folded his hands in front of him and leaned down a bit toward her. "I'm going to take a wild stab at what this is about: would the subject be tall, have blue eyes, walk with a cane and have a dreadful disposition?"

This made Romoly smiled. "However did you guess?"

Wilson grinned and shook his head. "You've certainly got him worked up."

She shook her head. "But I didn't do anything."

"You answered the door in a bath towel; that was enough for him. You all but threw yourself at him…"

"But I didn't!"

Wilson nodded. "…I know that; you know that. He just can't make the connection. And that stupid librarianism…thing…I don't even know what to say to that one."

Romoly nodded then smiled ruefully. "He won't let it go; I'm not like that."

"He's told me how you leave poems for him. That one really throws him for a loop."

"I know."

Wilson looked at her then smiled broadly. "That's your plan, isn't it? You write him the poems, knowing full well he's going to come by?"

She nodded again. "Before I go any further: how far is this information going?"

Wilson looked surprised. "Not any further than this office. Personally I think you should continue sending the poems. It's driving him bananas and, at the same time, he's come to respect you…well, respect you as much as House is capable of respecting someone."

"So do you think I'm doing the right thing? I'm trying to prove I'm not what he says…and, for the life of me, I don't even know why I feel compelled to do it."

"Miss Scott…"

"Please call me Romoly."

Wilson smiled easily. "Romoly," he paused, almost wishing she were as taken with him as she was with House. And it was clear she was taken with House. _How did that happen?_ "Deep down he knows how idiotic his notion is; a person can't have a notion like 'librarianism' and not be proven wrong; it's inevitable. And you are the person to do that. But he won't go down without a fight…and he certainly won't let it go until you either sleep with him (and, even then, he'll question why your love-making was stilted or repressed even if it isn't) or you leave him. Either way…" Wilson smiled. "…you're screwed."

Romoly rolled her eyes. "Oh no…Dr. House has corrupted you! Turn away from Darth House. He wants to turn you to The Dark Side." They chuckled and Romoly paused to let her gaze fall over his face. _Dr. Wilson really is a nice guy; it's too bad his friend is a complete louse. _For some reason, Romoly felt she could say what she said next…and it was a comfort. She hadn't told anyone about Dr. House (since Romoly worked all the time, she didn't go out; she was pretty much a loner. As a result, she didn't have many friends and certainly no one she could feel comfortable enough to confide in about her cranky next door neighbor). "Dr. Wilson…"

Wilson's eyes sparkled. "Please call me James."

She blushed and looked at her hands. Her demeanor suddenly turned serious as she muttered, "He still talks like I'm a virgin." She looked up at his confused eyes. "Did you know he even asked me if I knew what it was like to kiss a man?"

Wilson's eyes widened and he got up from his desk. Pacing he just couldn't believe how stupid House was being…and this confusion said a lot. House did stupid things on a daily basis. "He actually asked you that?"

Romoly nodded. "Of course I know how to kiss a man. While I haven't bed-hopped like he has I've had two serious, long-term relationships; we're talking years for each one. But both ended badly…with one I had to get a restraining order, the other, um, died suddenly…and that's my past." She paused and looked out the window at the gorgeous afternoon. Suddenly feeling the need to change gears, she turned back to Wilson. "How long have you been friends with Dr. House?"

A bit taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation, Wilson could only chuckle. "Too long. I don't know, for some reason I feel obligated to him somehow. He's the pathetic puppy that doesn't have a friend in the world. Of course, if the puppy wouldn't growl at everything around him, he just might have more friends but he just can't seem to grasp the correlation."

She snorted. _How true is that?_ "And he's stubborn which is why, I'm guessing, he won't let this thing go."

Wilson smiled and leaned down a bit. Looking her in the eyes, he asked, "Would you go out with me?"

*****


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Romoly threw him a truly confused look. She certainly wasn't ready for the sudden change in subject; and she absolutely wasn't ready for that big of a change of subject. "What??"

Wilson's sudden idea was one that would hopefully move the two towards rectifying the situation. "Would you go out with me?"

Her eyebrows rose at this. "What about Dr. House?"

Wilson shrugged. "Well, you aren't dating…" Romoly nodded. "…has he asked you out?"

She shook her head again. "No. He either sexually harasses or yells at me."

"Would you go out with him if he asked you?"

_YES!_ It was hanging on her tongue; she absolutely wanted to spit it out…but she couldn't. "I don't know."

Wilson wasn't an idiot; he knew she would. Shaking his head, she understood he didn't believe her. "Perhaps this will spur him on." Wilson stood up and, walking around to the middle desk drawer, he pulled out an envelope. "It's an invitation to our annual Pediatric Cancer Fundraiser. It's next Friday night and all of the department heads are required to attend. House will be there; he's the department head for Diagnostics."

This surprised Romoly; she never expected House to be a department head; in fact, she had a feeling she should be surprised that he had a job at all. Now Romoly was nervous: how would House react to seeing here there, with Dr. Wilson? Most importantly: _how will he react when he sees me in an evening dress? Any differently than when he saw me half-naked and wet?_

Almost as if Wilson read her mind, he smiled. "You're worried about how House will react to seeing us together, aren't you?" Surprised, all Romoly could do was nod. "I'm not a mind reader; it's a common problem: 'How will House react?' Perhaps, if he saw you in a pretty dress, he'll change his view of librarianism once and for all."

All Romoly could do was shake her head and burst into laughter. "Where did he get a word like 'librarianism' in the first place?"

Wilson joined in her laughter. "You'd be amazed at some of the words he tries to pass off as actual words. Why, just six months ago we were dealing with 'explicit homophotophobicitis'."

Romoly chuckled while trying to understand what the word sounded like. "Huh? What does 'explicit homophotophobicitis' mean?"

"Well," Wilson looked at a picture on the opposite wall as he tried to remember. "It's basically the fear of similar pictures, shown to be of an explicit nature, being seen one right after another. I guess it's an attempt at a long, official sounding word for home sex film."

Romoly snorted. "And how did this come about?"

"Well," Wilson began, shooting her a 'just take a wild guess' look as he continued. "House came in one day, interrupting my work, to say that he believed Paris Hilton was getting a raw deal from her boyfriend about all those naked videos on the Internet. He then said something like 'Well, she doesn't have homophotophobicitis.' After the inevitable 'What's that?' and 'You haven't heard of it?' rigmarole, he described it. Where he comes up with this stuff, I haven't a clue." Romoly just shook her head, unable to put the right words to that situation.

"So, Miss Romoly Scott," Wilson smiled, flashing his signature dimples. "What do you say? We'll go as friends because I know I have no opportunity with you." Romoly started squirming uncomfortably in her chair and Wilson held up his hand to stop her. "It's ok…but I just can't wait to see him eat crow when you show up, looking incredible, on my arm. I wouldn't miss that for the world."

Romoly smiled; it might be fun. And she wouldn't mind getting dressed up to see House…even if this was the only way. She just hoped it wouldn't be too awkward, especially since Wilson was House's only friend.

"Ok, I'll do it."

Wilson's face brightened. "That's great." He handed her the invitation. "Here, take this; you'll need it to get in. Just meet me in the lobby by 6:45. And dress as if you were going out with House." He leaned down again and smiled. "Do you still have that hot little green number you were wearing when we first met? You know, the one with the matching hat? If you wore that House would be a very happy guy. He's told me, on more than one occasion, how impressed he was with that designer and wants to see you in more of their collections."

Romoly rolled her eyes and stood. "He'll be very impressed to know that it's from the Ralph Lauren Bath collection in fig green. He can find them at any major department store." Romoly thought for a moment, a delicious thought on her mind as well. "Come to think of it…" she grinned at the thought. "…they do have a men's line. I would love to see that."

Wilson shook his head and smiled, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the conversation. "I'll see you then." He turned and pulled a business card from the holder on the desk. "Call me if something should come up and you can't make it."

She nodded and stood up. Making her way to the door, she stopped and turned around. "Dr. House will want to know who you are bringing. What are you going to tell him?"

He shrugged. "I don't know but I'll think of something."

*****


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The next week proceeded as if nothing was amiss: House continued receiving poems and would always drop by her apartment to either complain or discuss them…or, quite simply, just to be fed. He wouldn't mention the poem; he'd just give her his pathetic "I'm hungry" look. She'd roll her eyes and they'd go inside. It was always platonic and there was never any physical contact…much to their mutual chagrin.

Unbeknownst to either of them, their feelings for each were growing, despite what was said (on his part) or what misunderstandings lay between them (again, that was mostly him). Both found themselves looking forward to the next time they'd see each other. And for House, their nightly routine became the one thing, other than medicine, that he looked forward to each day.

And Romoly thought that with all the poems and all the discussions that she was finally making some sort of progress with him. But the day before the Pediatric Cancer Event kicked whatever was between them into high gear.

Romoly still hadn't told House she was going with Wilson to the event (something she planned never to do) and, from what she could tell, Wilson hadn't told House either. Otherwise, she just knew he'd be badgering her about it…probably forever. Romoly already knew he'd be pestering her about the party so why prolong the torture?

That Thursday night before the party, House had arrived home the same time Romoly stepped out of her apartment to take out the garbage. "Excuse me," she smiled, trying to slow the fluttering in her heart when she saw him. Maybe there was something wrong with her…it had been increasing lately and she was getting concerned. _**Funny how it only happened when he was around.**_ She walked around him and he watched her walk away, something he didn't get to see as often as he'd like and thoroughly missed. When she returned a couple moments later, House was standing outside his apartment, reading her latest poetry installment:

The story of your life

Isn't what you see all around;

It could very easily change…

What if it brings you down?

This life you are living;

The finish won't necessarily be good.

So do what you can

And don't live your life misunderstood.

My dear doctor and neighbor,

Striving for what you think's needed.

I'm here to tell you

You won't know unless you've heeded.

Heeded to your friend's warnings,

Heeded to their warnings without bias.

Their devotion to your feelings

Has become overwhelming and almost pious.

You are an extraordinary man:

Very smart, intuitive, witty and great.

Of whom I care much,

More and more, certainly of late.

I'm not a person's happiness;

Happiness is more than a feeling.

But happiness begets a beginning,

A foundation for a new healing.

I'm not telling you what

You should do or should say.

I'm just telling you what

You could do or could say.

You can say what you

Would like for me to know.

I will certainly be here

For whatever you'd like to show.

The care you have provoked

Isn't from a wife or lover;

It's the care a friend

Has to give to one another.

You don't need a lover,

You need a kind word said.

You need a safe touch,

Where tears will not be shed.

Dr. House, you've shown me

How to be what I want.

Now let me show you

What you strive to be sought.

**Romoly**

House looked up and didn't say a word; simply watched Romoly as she stood beside him. "What is the meaning of this?" House was getting angry, an emotion she definitely didn't expect to get from him.

"It's your poem for the evening." He narrowed his eyes and she stepped back a bit. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'What?'? I think you just called me pathetic."

Romoly tilted her head and looked at him. "No, it was never intended like that. I was just telling you that I like you and that I hope you'd heed the warnings and suggestions of others. I just wanted you to know that life changes and isn't always good but if we listen to others, the changes will grow and strengthen us."

"But that's not how I am."

"What's not how you are?" Romoly was going to make him work for this.

House rolled his eyes and, moving to the doorknob, unlocked the door to his apartment while Romoly stood outside. She was afraid to move, lest she get sucked into the lion's den. House reappeared from inside the apartment. "Well, are you coming?"

Romoly didn't know where this was leading but her curiosity was getting the best of her. "I don't know…is it safe?"

House smirked but it never reached his eyes. "Nope."

"Ok." Romoly shrugged and followed House inside the inner sanctum. It was quite a milestone; after all, they were always either in the hallway or at her apartment. And what she saw gave her a better understanding of who he was: very masculine furnishings and decor…but very juvenile, rebel clutter: countless musical instruments; medical journals and Playboys were strewn all around. There was just a general sense of clutter about the apartment, not unlike the clutter in his life. She'd found, during her travels on the journey of life, that personal and habitation appearance was always a very good sign of the person and what's going on in their life. With House he looked like he'd never had it cleaned. _He probably threw stuff on the floor the moment he moved in,_ she thought, stepping deeper into the lair.

"Dr. House, what's the problem?"

He waved the poem. "This. I really liked the other poems: they weren't centered on my personal flaws and problems. Now?" He looked down and balled up the paper, sending it hurdling through the space of the apartment. "Now you've got me looking pathetic because I'm wallowing in my "inner demons" and that my life sucks unless I listen to others tell me how to live. And what's this caring crap? You don't want to be my lover but you "care" enough to want to cure me?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not telling you what to do; it's your life. But your life could be better if you took other people's advice."

He watched her then limped closer to her. "Right now I really hate you."

*****

And Romoly didn't know what to say. That was certainly not what she expected to hear. Confused, she looked at him with wide grey eyes. "Hate me? Why?"

"You make absolutely no sense. Everything about you is a contradiction. What am I supposed to do?"

"What does it matter if you're supposed to do anything or not? And what are we to each other, anyway? I write you poetry because you won't listen to me when I tell you I'm a librarian." She might as well come out and tell him why she's doing what she's doing. "I didn't know how else to prove that to you. And you should be grateful…no one else has ever read my poetry." She paused. "I work in a library; you think I'm a virgin; and you're mad because I don't want to be your lover…"

(_**Oh Romoly,**_ she rebuked herself; she was hoping that lie at the end would sail right through him, that he wouldn't notice that she was trying her hardest NOT to be his lover. The last thing she needed at the moment was to become his plaything. Or so she thought. _**You're such a liar.**_)

"…when you've given me absolutely no sign you even want me for a lover other than all the sexual comments you feel are necessary. I don't sleep with just anyone…" Now she was getting mad because he so obviously didn't believe a word she was saying; it was the goofy shaking of his head that tipped him off. "…you still think I'm a virgin, don't you?"

"Sweetheart, I don't believe a word you say; your lips say you don't want me but your flushed cheeks, heaving breasts and defiance tells me otherwise. You probably dream about me, don't you? In the comfort of your bedroom, as you sleep amongst the wittle bitty stuffed bears and the oh so handsome stuffed orangutan, you dream of what I can do to make you a woman; of where I can touch you; where I can kiss you. Thirty-five years is a long time to go without sex; I usually can't go thirty-five hours. And I can spot a virgin a mile away; you give off this desperation signal, very similar to the Bat Signal. Men of my caliber can spot it a mile away."

She knew he'd torment her about her sexual prowess (or, if you asked him, her lack of) and that no matter what she said he'd disregard it. Quickly, and seemingly imprudently, throwing caution (and her good sense) to the wind, Romoly marched up to him and grabbed his face with both hands. She didn't know what she was doing but she couldn't stand it anymore; she had to do SOMETHING, anything to shut him up, anything to convince him she wasn't what he was saying. Quickly marveling at the tingling his whiskers sent through her fingers, Romoly's eyes devoured his face as she whispered, "Would your definition of a librarian do this?" She stood on her toes and covered his lips with her own, her tongue begging entrance to his mouth.

House failed to respond for several nanoseconds, so in shock was he. But it didn't take long for him to drop his cane and wrap his arms around her trim waist. It was the feel of her lithe body in his arms that involuntarily released the groan he'd kept pent up the entire time they'd known each other. And it was true: he'd wanted to touch her from the moment he saw her half-naked and wet…but when he discovered she was a librarian? She'd become even hotter to him, that almost forbiddance was enough to keep him in agony at night, thinking about her, despite everything he said about "librarianism". It was simply a façade for the real issue.

House's mouth quickly granted her tongue access to his, thereby giving her the lead. After all, Romoly needed to prove, on his level, that she was what she said.

The kiss quickly intensified as she moaned and pushed herself closer to him, grinding against his tall frame. House was totally on autopilot: he couldn't have had a coherent thought, even if someone was having the thought for him. Romoly suddenly turned up the heat as she began swirling her tongue slowly, languidly over; under; around his. The agonized gasps he emitted told her she was doing something right.

At long last (it had really only been a few moments), Romoly disentangled herself from him and stepped back a good five steps, shaking like a sapling in the springtime breeze, breathing heavily from the severe lack of oxygen. She briefly wondered how much brain damage she'd suffer from that lack of oxygen.

Truth be told, she'd never been kissed like that (and she'd had her fair share of kisses); he was quite amazing with his tongue. The whiskers helped as well, even though she'd never been a whisker lady.

"Well? Would she?" Romoly panted, hoping to get him to answer her question. All he could do was gasp for breath as he stared, glassy-eyed, at her.

House shook his head as he also attempted to catch his breath. "Not even my hookers have kissed like that…I guess they would if I let them kiss me on the mouth."

And that killed the mood for her.

House, still trying to shake off the passion that lingered, narrowed his eyes with disbelief and a slight twinge of betrayal. "I am now convinced that you're lying: you can't be a librarian. Librarians don't kiss like that."

Romoly's mouth dropped. She couldn't believe how obstinate and childish he was being about this whole thing: he wasn't going to believe her no matter what she said. _'__**Fine,**__'_ she thought. _'__**I can only do so much.**__'_

Romoly became sarcastic. "Dr. House, you caught me; you are so right about me. I'm actually a library groupie. We're a tiny, rather obscure band of prostitutes that go from town to town, library to library, scouting out the best sights for mad, literary, library sex. I mean," Romoly rolled her eyes then started fanning herself melodramatically. "The sight of row after row of books gets us hot; we dream of where in the library the best sex can be had…"

"Oh, that's easy: library's employee lounge. They always have a couple of couches perfect to maneuver on," House expertly interjected.

Romoly wasn't even going to dignify that with a response. "Goodbye Doctor House." She turned around and walked out of his apartment, slamming the door close when she left.

"Oh he makes me so mad!" She muttered, almost tripping over her feet as she raced back to her apartment, the tears blinding her every step. She'd had enough; if he wasn't going to listen to her, fine. Maybe she didn't need him after all. She was so furious she didn't hear House's door open until "HEY! Where are you going? You can't just leave me hanging…that was an amazing kiss."

She stopped and turned to find him about three feet from her. Romoly pulled herself up tall and glared at him, her eyes blazing with fury. "If you still want the full use of your good leg, you will not talk to me for the rest of the night. I have nothing more to say to you. There's obviously nothing I CAN say to convince you of who I really am. I've tried with the poems; you've been to my workplace. If you just can't accept it, fine. I don't even want to LOOK at someone who holds me in such little regard as you do me. In fact, if it didn't cost me an arm and a leg I would get of out my lease tomorrow." Romoly studied him, her anger subsiding a bit with her yelling. She could see he was really listening. "You have insulted me in every possible way and I will no longer stand for it. As of right now, any association we once had is hereby dissolved." And, with that, she marched to her apartment. But House was quick and he caught the door as she was slamming it shut.

Pushing his way in, she watched as he strode to her and took her mouth with his in one fluid motion. Any resistance she even dreamt of putting up became lost in the feel of his hands on her face, neck, down her arms and settling on her waist; of his lips nibbling hers, coaxing her tongue with his. She became so weak she almost fell to her knees. _**He's so good at this…**_ The kissing became a game of tug-of-war with the power, each one dominating the other for a time. When it came back to her Romoly stepped away and, catching her breath, closed her eyes, resting a sweaty palm against her forehead. He had to leave.

"You don't mean any of that," he croaked, every emotion a different cadence in that single phrase.

Heaven help her, Romoly knew he was right. In fact, she was no longer mad at him; she just wished he'd kiss her again. But she couldn't afford that. "Please, Dr. House…just go. Leave me alone."

House watched her as he fought to regain his own composure. He didn't want to hurt her; he wasn't that sort of a jerk. He just couldn't help himself.

Coughing he nodded. "Fine." And, with that, he turned and hobbled out the door, leaving a lonely Romoly wondering what happened…and why she suddenly felt so alive, perhaps for the first time in her life.

*****


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

KNOCK, KNOCK.

"Come in," Wilson absentmindedly said the next morning as he read over a patient file. He heard the door open but didn't look up. "How can I help y…" Wilson stopped as he finally looked up to see House standing there. Wilson was absolutely amazed. The guy never politely knocked; he simply walked in. The every few occasions he did knock it was because Wilson had locked the door. There had to be something going on. As he studied his friend further, he could see that House hadn't slept well and his clothes looked even worse than usual…if that were possible. Looking down at his watch, he saw it was 10:30; normal for him. Still…something was REALLY going on.

"House! You look terrible. What happened?"

House flopped in a chair across from Wilson and rubbed his eyes, presumably to try to remove those horrible dark circles underneath them. "I was trying to break my record of 6 hookers in one night…I made it but both of us are tired."

And Wilson, being the thrice-divorced man that he was, didn't need clarification as to who the second party in that statement was. "I can imagine; but it's good to get him up and running. Makes both of you feel better." Wilson shook his head in disbelief since he knew House was lying. "But what's really going on? You look miserable on top of the terrible."

"Wilson, am I sexy?"

"No." He said with a straight face. How else was he supposed to answer? He could get all huffy and indignant about why House was asking but he'd known House for way too long; huffy and indignant was completely useless.

"Thanks."

Wilson tried once again. "What's really going on? From what I understand, you've never questioned your sexiness. Besides medicine, its one thing you've always been confident in, overconfident if you ask me."

"No one asked you."

"You did, just now!" Wilson studied his friend. "Is this about Romoly?" House got up and began pacing. "What happened?"

"She got upset with me."

"And? Someone getting mad at you is a bi-minutely-occurrence for you; that never fazes you. And what'd you do to provoke her?"

"You always assume it's me that provokes."

"Because it IS always you that provokes."

House rolled his eyes and stopped pacing in front of the office windows. Looking out the window and thumping his cane against the floor, House softly muttered, "She wrote me a poem, like she normally does. I got upset."

"That must've been some poem. Do you have it?"

House nodded and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper, then purposely overthrew the crumpled ball at Wilson, letting it bounce off his forehead. Wilson shook his head and picked it up from the desk, smoothing it out before he could read it. After a moment of contemplation, Wilson looked up with his mouth open. "This is bloody brilliant. She's completely hit the nail on the head…and she cares for you. Deeply. This is very well written. She seems very articulate and smart."

"She is but it's insulting; she's telling me how to live. She's telling me I need to be "cured" or my life will end badly."

Wilson slowly nodded his eyes wide with agreement. "And she's absolutely right. I've known you, what? 15 years? And with all my telling you how to live, you've never become this upset with me. And you've known her a month? She writes you a poem, stating exactly what I've been saying for 15 years, and you get mad. This woman's got to be under your skin. So what happened next?"

House rolled his eyes. "I did a pole dance then we had hot, wild, animal sex. You wouldn't believe how flexible that woman is." Wilson threw the poem on the desk in disgust. "What do you think? I didn't handle it well…I told her I hated her." Wilson's eyes widened. He'd suddenly remembered the party that night. _**'Oh no,'**_ Wilson thought, a sense of fright coming over him. _**'Should I or shouldn't I tell him Romoly's my date?'**_

"You told her you hated her? How old are you…12?"

"I told her she was a contradiction…then she kissed me." House had a tiny smirk on his face.

Wilson felt a tinge of jealousy. After all, House was House, a miserable old jerk...but how does he get the women? It didn't make sense. "So she kissed you. Why did she kiss you? And what happened next?"

"Before she kissed me she asked if librarians kissed the way she was about to kiss me. Wilson," House sighed and looked at Wilson then went back to thumping his cane. "After the kiss I accused her of not being a librarian."

Wilson groaned and let his head drop into his hands. He simply couldn't believe such nonsense, but only in the sense that he was obligated to feel that, especially with regard to his friend. In actuality, he could totally see House insulting that nice woman. That's just the way House was. "Why on earth did you say that? You really are a bonehead."

"She certainly didn't kiss like a librarian…and she ain't no virgin. I've never been kissed like that before."

Wilson's eyebrow went up. "How do you know how librarians kiss?"

"People who are bookish and dull, like librarians, don't kiss like Pamela Anderson."

"And how do you know how Pamela Anderson kisses?"

"According to her 900 number, she kisses very slow, with a little bit of…"

Wilson held up his hand. "That's enough. Excuse me…I need to go throw up." Wilson paused to think about what was said. "Really? Romoly was 900-number-good?"

House's head lulled back and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he remembered every sensation: the feel of her hands on his face; her smooth tongue commanding, manipulating his into submission; her trim waist with the right amount of curve. Her kiss was one he felt everywhere.

"If she was so great why don't you just marry her? You'll die of ecstasy every night."

"That would completely ruin my reputation with…well…everyone. I mean, how would it look if the great Dr. Gregory House married a librarian?"

"You'd probably gain respect; it would be poor Romoly I'd be worried about. HER reputation would be tarnished, not yours."

House's face changed, a sure sign he was changing the subject. "Do we really have to go to this fundraiser?" Wilson nodded. "Who are you bringing?"

_**Of course he'd have to ask.**_ "A friend." House's eyebrow lifted at this response.

"Really? I need details."

"Hardly. You'll meet her tonight."

"I can't wait," House remarked mischievously.

_**Neither can I**_, Wilson thought, wondering for the 10,000th time if they were doing the right thing.

*****


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

At 6:45 that night, Romoly stepped through the door of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. It had been a long time since she'd done any kind of partying and she was in desperate need of a new dress. She'd been fortunate to find this dress in no time, since she hated shopping. Standing at the hospital's threshold, she wore a grey jersey tube dress with magenta pink rhinestone detail underneath the bust and a tie in the back. It wasn't too elegant and it wasn't very expensive but it didn't matter; she looked sensational in it. The added magenta pink strappy heels, silver jewelry and upswept hair made her feel like the belle of the ball. As she took a moment to gauge the party, which was located in the lobby, she watched people and how they took to each other: wives chastising husbands; husbands rolling their eyes after their wives' backs were turned; interested singles gazing longingly at new faces. The mating dance was a unique and horrifically frightening experience.

"Well, hello Miss Scott." Romoly turned around to find Wilson standing there, just taking in her beautiful spectacle. And she was gorgeous. "Wow, you look amazing. And I'm glad you came, even though what happened yesterday was really pretty bad."

She studied him then nodded. "He told you, didn't he?" Wilson nodded himself. "I'm not surprised. He seems the type of person who needs to run to someone to tell them."

Wilson frowned. "Well, it wasn't like that; he was truly upset. You certainly took him by surprise with that kiss; he said, "People who are bookish and dull, like librarians, doesn't kiss like Pamela Anderson." What happened?" They moved to a foliaged corner of the lobby and she gave him the rundown. When she was done, Wilson nodded. "That was basically what he said. And I apologize for him, what little that means. I'm not going to explain his actions but they are usually explainable, however stupid, ignorant, childish or narcissistic they may be. In this case…I don't know if they ARE explainable." Wilson shook his head. "But I'm glad you showed up…" he said, still taking in her dress.

Romoly smiled. She knew that Dr. Wilson would be a good friend. "Thank you, Dr. Wilson, for listening. And thank you for asking me. It feels nice to get out and get dressed up for a party. I don't do this very often…anymore..." Her voice wandered off, suddenly distracted.

Wilson smiled but wondered why the sudden change in mood. Not wanting to push it since he didn't feel he had the right, Wilson said, "Please call me James. And, as sad as I am to admit this, you may be on my arm but your mind and your wardrobe is on someone else…" Wilson spied that someone else walking in the door across the lobby. "…who just walked in."

Romoly came to attention. "Where?"

Wilson chuckled softly and pointed across the room. There, in a beautiful tux…and gym sneakers…stood House. He seemed to be looking for someone but scowling because he couldn't find them. Wilson took her left hand, placed it at the crook of his elbow and led her across the room. House didn't see Wilson until they were almost upon him…and Romoly until she was there, in front of him. House's eyes grew wide initially from the shock of seeing her…then wider still from seeing her with Wilson…then his mouth dropped all together upon seeing her dress. As he scrutinized, his eyes devoured every inch of her goodness, taking in her soft curves as they flowed underneath the dress; the way the strapless bodice held her perky breasts in place without them actually spilling out; the way the short length accentuated her long legs. Without any warning, House hobbled around to get the back view…and audibly gasped this time. House fought the urge to yank that tie undone and cup her perfect butt as it was molded beautifully by the clinging material.

"Good evening House," Wilson said, trying to divert his attention away from his date and her hindquarters. "I see you wore a tux."

Romoly tried desperately not to smile; she was still mad at him after all. But the way that man filled a tuxedo made it difficult to stay mad…very difficult. _**'What's the harm in talking to him? You know you can't stay away.'**_

"Uh-huh," he distractedly said, too busy studying her. It didn't take long for him to snap out of it and come around to confront her about being there…with Wilson of all people. "What are you doing here? And with him?" He pointed to his best friend.

Romoly shrugged. "He asked me. Were YOU ever going to ask me?" House's pause told her everything she needed to know. "That's what I thought. And that's why your words to me yesterday suddenly have no meaning. We aren't dating; we aren't sleeping together. You have no claim over me and you've never given me any indication of even wanting one."

"I did last night, after you kissed me."

"And that wasn't you talking. If I hadn't kissed you, would you be as upset to see me here tonight as you are now?"

"YES!" House hissed, unable to control himself. Of course he would've been mad: not only did his best friend Jimmy invite her, his best friend Jimmy was a man. A very single man. A very single man with a horrible track record with women. And House wasn't just possessive of his toys: he was possessive of other people's toys he wanted, even if it meant stealing. Romoly belonged to no one and yet the same principle applied: if he couldn't have her no one could. It was sick; it was twisted; it was wrong. But that was House.

She was rather surprised to hear that…surprised and delighted. Not sure what to say, Wilson finally came to the rescue. "Come on, let's get you a drink," and she nodded in response, distracted and confused, despite her delight. Throwing House one last look over her shoulder, Romoly followed Wilson to the bar, allowing him to place a light hand on the exposed portion of her back. This only made House more upset, his eyes narrowing as they walked away.

"You look like you know her," a soft female voice muttered. House finally tore his look from Romoly to Cameron standing beside him, Chase attached to her hip. This wasn't unusual; they were dating, after all. "Who is that?"

House turned back to Romoly, his ire increasing as he watched her laugh at something Wilson was saying then continue to build with every additional smile she sent Wilson's way. _**That should be me she's laughing with.**_

"My dog walker." He turned back to Cameron, whose realization for who the woman was had come over her face suddenly and completely.

"That's Romoly, your poetess?" Cameron watched her, impressed and a bit jealous that she was not only gorgeous but artistic. "Wow…but what's she doing here?"

"Wilson invited her." House mumbled, turning his attention back to the bar just in time to see Romoly animatedly talking to Wilson who seemed truly taken with her. He suddenly hated, and envied, Wilson.

"Why didn't you ask her? It's obvious you like her and she's incredibly sexy." Chase commented, watching the scene with a bit of amazement. He'd known as much as Cameron knew and was just as curious to find out more about the woman who had captured his former boss's attention through the written word. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

House slowly turned his narrowed glare to Chase. "Oh YOU'RE one to give advice…you can't find a real date so you're bangin' your co-worker. I don't think so."

Chase narrowed his eyes. Cameron opened her mouth to shoot a comment back when Chase put a hand on her arm, effectively stopping her. Chase wasn't happy with the comment but he saw the conflict and unhappiness on his former mentor's face; House was just striking out and Chase was simply the poor schmuck in the line of fire. So Chase fired back… "Ok, fine House…but look at her:" House watched how Romoly's face lit up whenever Wilson's dimpled smile grazed her line of vision; how she constantly left a hand on his arm; how she hung on his every word. House didn't like what he was seeing.

"House," Chase continued, smirking a bit since he knew what he was about to say would make House angrier than all get out… "from the looks of things she's going home with him tonight. He's got her wrapped around his little finger. If you don't stop her she's gonna be all over him like Banana Boat Tanning Oil on Yasmine Bleeth."

And that did it. "Fine." House gruffly grumbled and, standing tall, hobbled to the bar.

"Do you think he can do it?" Chase asked Cameron without taking his eyes from House.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think she'll go for House?"

Cameron watched as House interrupted Wilson and Romoly's conversation. She noted Romoly's eyes light up even brighter when he interrupted and nodded to Chase. "Yes. She already likes him."

"Then why is she fawning all over Wilson?"

"Because he's being nice to her. She's flattered but she'd prefer it was House." Cameron's heart tugged when she finally learned she never had a chance with House. "I hope it works out, for the both of them."

*****


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

House walked up behind Romoly just as she was saying, "…then I saw it: it was HUGE!!"

Wilson laughed and looked up from his drink to see House scowling behind Romoly. Wilson coughed and asked, "Are you ok House?"

Romoly unconsciously stiffened then, plastering on a smile, slowly turned around and looked up. Her eyes involuntarily lit up at the sight of him, despite his scowling. "Yes, Dr. House? Was there something you needed?"

"I need to talk to you. Now."

Her eyebrow went up at his command. "Now? Ok." She put down her bottled water and crossed her arms over her chest. "Go ahead; I'm listening."

"In private."

Romoly studied his eyes and was startled to find remnants of hurt in them; she didn't realize it was about seeing her with Wilson until she saw House's look pass between the two of them. Slowly nodding, she said, "Ok. Just let me get one thing."

House nodded and she leaned across the bar, to the bartender. "Excuse me."

The handsome bartender turned and, seeing the beautiful woman, smiled. He always had time to appreciate a beautiful woman. "Hello there. What can I do for you?" House rolled his eyes incredulously at the man's fakery.

Romoly smiled sweetly and the bartender's grin expanded. "Can you help me?"

"I'd love to try." House narrowed his eyes at the look of obvious desire on the man's face.

"Great. I was wondering: what is the best drink to throw in an insane jerk's face when you need to?"

The bartender was close to bursting with laughter; the insane jerk's eyes widened; and Wilson, who'd joined in the commotion, snorted. "Definitely whiskey." The bartender said.

"Ok, great." Romoly spread her hands up and apart. "Give me the tall glass."

He laughed and nodded. "You got it." He handed her the glass and winked. She smiled, took the glass and turned to House. "Ok, ready."

By this time House needed to get her away from this party; she was absolutely lethal. "Come on." He took her smooth, warm elbow and led her to the elevators. "We're going to my office."

*****

Moments later they arrived at the office. She was quite impressed with the layout; at least he had large windows. Her tiny office only had one semi-large window that faced the dumpster. Walking inside she turned to House who had closed the door and the blinds behind him. "Have a seat," he said, indicating the chairs around the room. Romoly turned and, seeing his semi-cluttered desk, smiled to herself. She walked to the desk, set the whiskey down and looked over her shoulder to find him watching her. Romoly turned back to the desk and, carefully cleaning a spot on top, turned back around and slowly sat down.

"I think I'll sit here," She murmured then slowly, ever so slowly, Romoly crossed her long, smooth, bare legs, immediately catching House's attention. She smirked as she placed both her hands on the desk beside each hip and, leaning slightly forward, slowly began moving her crossed leg up and down, rubbing lightly against the other leg in a rhythmical up-and-down motion. It was positively hypnotizing.

Romoly Scott knew exactly what she was doing; women from every age and time have done what she was doing. SHE was calling the shots; SHE made sure she had the power. After all, she was still mad at him…but that was slowly fading with the desire blazing in his eyes.

Meanwhile, House really was hypnotized: he was that entranced by her movements. He gulped as she watched him without stopping, or even slowing, her movements.

"What did you want to talk about?" Romoly quietly asked, all the while wondering if what she was doing was even sane.

House couldn't answer because her movements gave him temporary amnesia. He suddenly couldn't remember why he wanted to talk to her; maybe it had something to do with Wilson? Then the flashes of remembrance came: her smiles to Wilson when he said something supposedly clever; her hand on his arm; her beautifully brilliant eyes shining. These flashes, coupled with her amazing leg action, had simply become too much for him; she was driving him insane. Slowly limping toward her, never taking his eyes from hers, he stood directly in front of her. Noting the hitch in her breathing and the easing of her leg rhythm, he knew he was getting to her. Placing each hand on the desk beside hers, he leaned forward and moved to straddle her lower legs so his crotch could caress her crossed leg. Her quiet gasp was enough encouragement as he teased her leg, which only sent his own imagination into high gear: visions of Romoly uncrossing those long, smooth, beautifully contoured legs and wrapping them around his middle; the feel of her soft, silky inner thighs as his hands inched under her skirt; the rush of first discovery of what kind of panties she really wore…and watching those panties slide down her legs, her skin color contrasting with the panty color. _**But what if she wasn't wearing any?**_ He suddenly thought…and his brain almost exploded with the possibility. _**Of course she wears panties; it would be against the Librarian's Law not to. But still…the possibility…**_

Romoly opened her mouth to comment when his right hand suddenly left the desk and traveled up her right leg, which was the crossed leg. She moaned as his rough fingers lingered around the curves and whispered against the sensitive skin around her right knee. Gathering the courage to look into his eyes, she saw how conflicted the man was, completely different from the over-confident jerk she was used to seeing. He obviously wasn't going to talk…his movements spoke for themselves. And she felt she needed to talk but simple conversational words weren't going to be enough; she needed something deeper, more important.

Which was why she inadvertently broke into the melodic cadence of her poetry, choosing a poem she'd written years ago, before her tragedy; she couldn't have written a poem like this in her current stage of life: her faith in the purity and goodness of love had wavered too much. Besides, she figured she'd save reciting the Dewey Decimal System for a REALLY hot moment, until they could finish what they started in at least some comfort.

Romoly gathered a newfound courage to pour her heart out, all the while impossibly conscious of his fingers on her legs and his hot breath ruffling the hair that feathered only centimeters from her left ear...

A heart knows when

It sees the only One.

A heart feels when

It's touched by the One.

House gasped; Romoly shivered from the hot, stilted noise of his mouth. He'd never thought much about poetry before meeting Romoly…now he wished he had; he really should've given those college poetry classes a try. Reading poetry was one thing; listening to the woman House desired most in the world speak it was practically orgasmic. He leaned forward and caressed her cheek with his hot, excited breath. She felt him watch her eyes but she couldn't look at them; she resorted to watching the closed blinds of the office. If she had looked at him she probably wouldn't have been able to finish the poem. Taking a stilted breath, she continued in a soft, almost mewling voice…

A heart cries when

It's hurt by Them.

A heart dies when

The One leaves them.

He'd lost track of her words; just the erotic pulse of her voice lulled him into sensory overload…

A heart laughs when

The One tickles them.

A heart grieves when

The One tricks them.

It was her turn to gasp between stanzas as he leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. He was still straddling her legs, his long fingers caressing them in his slow rhythm. Only this time he increased his hip action, this time making it slower, needier, rubbing his obvious erection against her leg. This made her core pulsate; her nerve endings light like bright Christmas lights…and her purring to begin.

At that moment, Romoly's only coherent thought was that if he'd decided to take her, right there on that desk, she would indeed be the happiest woman in the world.

And it was such an odd situation for Romoly because she didn't know him; she didn't know how he took his eggs (did he even eat eggs??) or why he never shaved…or even if he liked her. Somehow none of those trivialities mattered at that time; she just knew how incomplete she was without being filled with him…completely. It was too bad she didn't know what to blame it on: was it her pathetic lack of sex lately? Was there a full moon? Was she really ovulating? Or was House just so…GOOD…at what he was doing she forgot how important a first date was and wanted to go straight for the big enchilada? All would've made perfect sense.

It somehow didn't seem to matter anyway; the rawness of the moment seemed to make everything correct.

Romoly tried several times to continue but the prickling of his whiskers along her sensitive shoulder made it impossible, sending goose bumps all over her body and distracting her from the rest of the poem. His lips made a slow trip to her neck where she whimpered involuntarily.

"Don't stop," he breathed, his voice barely audible to her through the buzzing of the excess estrogen coursing through her body.

Coughing, she shakily whispered, "Ok."

My heart feels something

It's never felt before.

My heart stirs something

Fierce as never before.

By now his lips were behind her ear and both hands had roamed up both legs, teasing the skin underneath the dress's hem with his fingertips. Without so much as a second thought, Romoly uncrossed and boldly, yet modestly, spread her legs.

He moaned in agony. Not quite able to stop himself (his brain was teetering ever so close to that dangerous "no thought, all action please" stage of his temporary hormonal brain damage), House moved his long, lithe fingers up her legs and over her dress. Latching onto her hips, he yanked her torso to him, slamming her into him. Her gasp of surprised yet exhilarated delight maneuvered his fingers back down to her legs, threading them between her thighs. It was only when she wrapped her legs around his middle, in perfect synch to his earlier vision that he spoke, his mouth coming to rest beside hers…

"I thought you never wanted to see me again."

"I don't," she whispered, moving impossibly closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and locking her ankles around his waist. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as she slowly kissed her way up his scruffy jaw line, her lips coming to rest just in front of his ear. Breathlessly she finished the end of the poem…

Your heart shows me

How you need me.

Your heart grieves me

How you reject me.

Our hearts recognize the

Connection like none other.

Our hearts but push

far from each other.

His hands slowed at these words. They both knew how true those words were, especially given their conflicted feelings for each other. House stopped touching and pulled his head back, away from her amazing lips, but left Romoly wrapped around him. Even that was too far away…and he tried not to think about how they really should be having sex but weren't. He was mad at himself for not initiating further…but, for some reason, he couldn't. Despite how he'd never felt so far from a person who was wrapped in his arms as he did at that moment; even though he needed to be inside her, to feel her very core as it enveloped and devoured him…he simply couldn't initiate. Her words were like an invisible barrier between them. _**Was she making this out to be more than what it really was? But is it more than what you think? **_He simply didn't know; he just knew that the words made staying harder than leaving…and House always took the easy road.

"Romoly…" House began. He had to say something; this was the part where he usually ran away.

"Yes Greg?" She finally used his first name and his heart settled into his throat. And it sounded so good at the tip of her tongue.

Before he could answer they heard the SWOOSH of a door and the "House? What's going on?"

Romoly quickly released him and House stepped from between her legs. Taking a few moments to collect himself (he couldn't very well turn around, in the state he was in) without actually looking at her, he finally gathered himself and turned around to glare angrily, only to find the old and the new ducklings, each woman holding a patient file and everyone's mouth falling widely open when they realized what was happening.

"I'm sorry," Cameron said, horror written all over her face. "…should we go?" She pointed to the door behind her.

Romoly shook her head and hopped off the desk. "No; it's ok. You look like you have a patient. I'm just his neighbor." She looked at House who'd returned his look to her. "I better go."

House nodded abruptly which only saddened Romoly. She wanted him to defend her, to tell her to stay while the others had to leave. Or at least to tell them she wasn't just his neighbor…how about his friend? Romoly gave the entire situation a sad look of defeat and she walked around House, without a second look. Holding her head up high but keeping her impending tears in check, she quickly strode out the office and nearly sprinted to the elevators.

She needed to put that interruption behind her; she needed to forget about the feel of his breath against her mouth; his stubble teasing, reddening the skin on her shoulders…

…and how her heart was lost to him that very night. She knew she'd forever be his…and she didn't even know why.

Because she didn't know him.

*****


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The next day found House in his office, facing away from the door, working his scruff between his index finger and thumb, his legs perched on top of his credenza as he stared out the window. He couldn't think; he couldn't concentrate…except on the feel of her body, the sound of her voice as she recited the words that seemed to pierce the very core of his heart.

He remembered the atmosphere after she left that night…he was cranky and the kids had picked up on the vibes. As a result, they kept making silly mistakes, which made him even MORE upset until finally someone ran to Cuddy, while she was mingling with the big donors at the party, with the problem. Cuddy demanded he go home. She didn't know about Romoly or the scene the kids had walked into; she just knew he couldn't be around her hospital anymore cranky than he already was. And that was fine with him.

For three straight hours that next day House conducted business as usual while staring out that window. He correctly diagnosed the patient that had all six young doctors interrupting his fun the previous night (**"How does he do that?" Kutner had asked, shaking his head. The other two could do nothing but shrug; they were just grateful they'd found the answer without him spitting nails at them.**); he envisioned, over and over, how Romoly would be. What he couldn't understand was why he was going to stop her; he knew he wanted her. That simply wasn't House.

He told himself it was because he didn't want Romoly making this more than what it was. It made sense when he thought of it that night; a day later it made absolutely no sense. Did he simply not want to start something he couldn't finish? Or was there something about Romoly that prevented him from taking the plunge, in more ways than one?

This day, it was his distraction that had become so bad, not his snark. Once again, the ducklings called in a big gun: Wilson this time. They needed someone to get through to him: they wouldn't work this way; House couldn't work this way; their patients couldn't fight for their lives with him this way.

SWOOSH! "What are you doing?"

House, not moving a muscle to turn around as he stared at the partly-cloudy summer day, said, "I'm contemplating the overthrow of the hospital. Wanna help?" Wilson sighed. "Well, ask a stupid question…"

Wilson held his hands up, even though House couldn't see him. Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he sighed and threw them down, then headed over to stand by House. Looking out the window, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of what House was looking at, he shook his head in disbelief. House was staring at…nothing. Absolutely nothing. The guy was wasting time staring at nothing. But, really, why should Wilson be surprised? This is the idiot that felt the need to stick a knife in the electrical socket to see if he would really die…and where he'd go. Wilson really shouldn't be surprised.

"You're pathetic, you know that?"

House flinched a bit, almost as if to look at Wilson but stopped himself. "Why?"

"WHY?!?!" Wilson asked incredulously. _Do I have to spell it out for the lovesick puppy?_ "Am I gonna have to spell this out for you? I think you're in love."

That did it: Wilson got the reaction he needed. House turned to him and gave a horrified look…which only convinced Wilson he was absolutely correct. "Ok, now you really ARE smoking something. Don't be ridiculous."

Wilson smiled like the kid in the class who knew all the class gossip and secrets…but no one else knew he knew…and he felt on top of the world. "Oh, boy…you've got it bad. What happened last night?"

"What do you think happened?"

Wilson sat on the edge of the desk, judging House. "I know what the kids saw…they told me."

"What did the kids see?"

Wilson knew this was a game to get Wilson to drop the subject; it wasn't going to work. "You tell me what you think they saw and I'll correct you."

House smiled. He supported his bad leg as he pulled them down from the credenza and moved to sit forward in his chair. "We were playing Twister."

Wilson grinned slyly. "I heard a slightly different version but I knew there were limbs wrapped around one another. What else did she do?"

"I never kiss and tell."

"Like hell you don't," Wilson emphatically disagreed and House grinned mischievously. Realizing Wilson was probably not going to let this thing drop, House looked past Wilson as he let memories and visions…the same ones that kept him company all day, filtered through his memory. "We got to know each other better: she wrapped her legs around me; I kissed her shoulder. Did you know she's got a mole just under her clavicle?"

Wilson's grin turned slightly juvenile as he leaned forward a bit, almost conspiratorially: "Oh…" he paused then smiled wider. "Was she wearing any panties?"

House's blood pumped at the thought but cooled when he remembered how he was so close to discovering…if he had it would've been like discovering the Holy Grail: What kind of panties do librarians REALLY wear? If it was anything but the granny panties he thought he could be in serious trouble. _**That could be a Frontline documentary: "The Lingerie of the Literary"…I'll email them.**_"I didn't get that far; we got interrupted."

He also seemed to conveniently forget how he stopped them just before they were interrupted. But that's neither here nor there.

Wilson asked a question House certainly wasn't prepared for and that left him wondering why he asked it: "Was there poetry?"

House eyed him suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, with a brain and a body like hers, if she recited you poetry at the crucial moment, she'd be downright lethal. But, since you can't seem to tell me, I'll just have to find out for myself. Can you spare her? I could be her literary critic, you know."

This made House's blood boil. He certainly didn't want Wilson around her before last night but after, not when he only got a mere taste of what she was? House would cane him before he'd allow that. House narrowed his eyes and Wilson jumped back, alarmed at the reaction. He expected a snarky retort; a sexist answer; perhaps even a comment about Wilson's manhood…but to have House take it personally? He never dreamt that would happen.

"Who IS this girl? She's got your boxers bunched so tight you're about to explode. Would you just do her already and get it over with?"

House stood up and looked him square in the eye; he really wasn't too happy with Wilson at that moment. "You seem to know her very well; why aren't YOU doing her? You two were getting pretty cozy at the party."

"And yet I wasn't the one caught with a librarian joined at the hips, was I? Damn it." Wilson cursed softly. In reality he was very jealous; who wouldn't be? From everything Wilson saw (which wasn't as much as House, the lucky bas**rd), any man would want her.

"What were you doing with her, anyway? How did you invite her?"

Wilson had hoped he'd never have to explain. Stupid, stupid Wilson to think such a thing. "House, Romoly came to see me. She wanted to talk to me about you; she doesn't know where she stands with you. And now? The poor girl's probably so confused she doesn't know what to do." Wilson studied House and was surprised to see almost a relieved expression on his face. _House actually seems happy about this. _"She doesn't want me. For some unknown reason she prefers you; I'm thinking its some vicious, unknown strain of Librarianism Fever that seems to be prevalent among virginal, lonesome Dewey Decimal Disciples who've been reading too much Nora Roberts." Wilson was simply testing House; he was dying to know whether House had changed his librarianism view or not. _He's got ample evidence proving how wrong his assumption is._

But instead of a loud-spoken, moronic diatribe about how that was so right about librarians, House turned away and muttered softly, thumping his cane a few times. "She's not like that."

Wilson was taken aback. He wasn't sure he heard what he really heard. "Excuse me? What did you say?"

House sighed and turned back to Wilson then repeated about two decibels louder: "She's not like that."

Wilson was really confused now. "So…does this mean you've changed your view on librarianism? Have you seen the error of your ways?"

House grinned…he was back in House form. "Nope…it just means I've changed how I view HER. Actually the librarian part of Romoly is so damned hot that if she ever recited the Dewey Decimal System she could force me to wear a pink feather boa, pink feathered g-string and make me prance around Market Street at rush hour, if it meant I would get laid."

Still, there seemed absolutely no need to remind himself…and certainly not Wilson…that he stopped at crucial moment.

Wilson groaned as his stomach whirled with nausea. "Dear Lord I hope you aren't serious…"

House shrugged. "I don't know…she hasn't used that on me yet. You never know."

And Wilson prayed that wouldn't happen…

*****


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The talk with Wilson helped; House was much more productive for the rest of the day, staying until around 5:00. When he got home, House looked for his usual poem taped to the door. It wasn't there. Startled, he turned back to her apartment door. Hobbling over, he put his ear to it but heard nothing. _**She's not home yet,**_ he thought. _**That's weird.**_ _**She's always home when I get here.**_ Sensing something completely new and strange (perhaps something akin to concern for another person), he tried the door handle. Locked. _**Ok…she's really not home. But how can I be sure? I can't unless I look inside; I'm just looking out for her well-being, after all, like any good neighbor should. **_ Looking around and seeing no one, he carefully bent down and lifted the Welcome Mat…and found nothing. He looked all around for another hiding spot but found nothing still.

"She's gotta have another key floating around here; she's too prepared NOT to have a spare key handy." He saw the wreath and smiled. Taking one more look around, he removed if from the doornail and turned it over. Sure enough, there was a key…an apartment-lock size, by the looks of it. Carefully returning the wreath to the door, he let himself in and took in the surroundings, still clean and crisp from the last time he was there. He had yet to see the bedroom though. _**'I wonder what sort of surprises you have.'**_ He mentally asked Romoly.

Quickly locating it, he was surprised how simple (_**No frills or stuffed orangutan**_), yet feminine, it was. The queen sized bed was covered with a rose, grey and mint-green patchwork quilt; the windows were covered with mint-green mini-blinds; the lamps were a coordinating mint and grey. There was a small TV on a large oak dresser; a rocking chair covered with a rose seat cushion; a 2-drawered vanity with a telephone and an alarm clock sat by the bed; and a small table in the corner with her cosmetics and other beauty supplies. A medium-sized freestanding bookcase held, what looked to be, poetry and novels; prose and history books. House had certainly planned to make a full-sweep of the room but any good snooper will tell you the best place to find something juicy would be the table by the bed.

He flopped down on the bed (_**The right amount of comfort…I could get used to this**_) and opened the first drawer. He didn't find much, just the telephone book, a bottle of aspirin, a pair of reading glasses, some earplugs and a sleep mask. "Boring," he muttered and shut the drawer. Moving to the last drawer, he found a few more personal items: letters from what looked to be family and friends, a yeast infection kit (_**Lovely**_), some sleeping pills (_**Interesting…**_)…but his biggest find was at the back of the drawer, underneath another book of poetry. It was a black and white composition book, just like the kind used in schools. He saw pieces of yellowing newsprint sticking out along the edges.

Now House was completely suckered in. He simply had to know what the book said. Giving no thought to the fact that he was still in her apartment, he lay down on the bed, propped his head on the pillows and opened the book to the first page, where he found the first journal entry…

_February 26, 2003:_

_I met someone today. His name is Clifton James. He's a writer._

**(House's eyes widened. "Clifton James?!?! THE Clifton James?!?!" As if Romoly**

**knew House would ask that question, her next sentence seemed to answer him.)**

_That's right: THE Clifton James, the world famous mystery novelist. He's a friend of Roger's,_

_here at the library. Where Roger knows him from, none of us know. So what? He's famous_

_and very handsome. Anyway, he came by the library for a book signing and as part of our New_

_York City Benefit, to raise money for the library. We talked for awhile and he's just really great._

_He's a widower with no children who likes to water ski, play pool and, of course, loves books._

_He had to leave after an hour but said that he lives in the Village and would love to take me to _

_dinner soon. I said yes and gave him the number of the library. I wonder if he calls. _

_It was a very good day. ___

"She knew Clifton James?" House's eyes widened with disbelief. "But isn't he dead now? Didn't he die in that standoff with police?"

_March 2, 2003:_

_Clifton James called me at the library! I'm still in shock but not enough to keep me from happy_

_dancing! __**("Oh gag me", House muttered.)**__ He asked me to dinner tomorrow night. I've _

_never known anyone famous...and CLIFTON JAMES has asked me to dinner!!! Did I mention _

_that already? __**("Yes, just get on with it already.")**__ Oh no…what am I going to wear?_

House was puzzled…this certainly didn't sound like the Romoly House spent time thinking about…this Romoly is just a stupid girl with stupid asinine views and ideas. "2003…" House muttered, studying the dates of the entries. "That was just 4 years ago. What happened between then and now to change Romoly so much?"

Feeling very disturbed all of the sudden, House really didn't want to read about her dates with him. He continued reading, skimming down to a month later …

_April 3, 2003:_

_I'm in love; I've never fallen this quickly for someone before. Clifton James is talented, funny_

_and incredibly smart. You know, we haven't even slept together? Isn't that wild? Clif wants us to "go slow"; I just want to jump him every time I see him. There's something so magnetic and powerful about him that drives me insane. He's a bit of a recluse, though. We go to parties but it's as professional duties dictate. He doesn't seem to have many friends, or even acquaintances, outside of the literary world. And he's completely obsessed by his writing. But he's absolutely brilliant and knows his craft inside and out. In fact, people come to him when they need help or if they're stuck with their stories. He's like a doctor: he can diagnose what the story's lacking and be absolutely right. It's amazing and sexy at the same time. _

House, somehow completely oblivious to the parallels between him and this Clifton James, was growing increasingly uncomfortable with each page, each word even, he read. He didn't like what he was reading. He'd heard what happened to Clifton James and had a funny feeling Romoly had been caught somewhere in the middle. Nevertheless, House continued reading anyway; it was like a pain you know you hate but want to experience anyway. Along the way House discovered Romoly and Clif had become very serious and moved in together.

Then doubt began to form, a self-generated doubt that stemmed from the NEED to not believe her. _**Maybe this wasn't even her? Yeah, that's it,**_ he thought. _**If this wasn't her then I won't have to think about her past loves…and she could be what I want her to be. But, if this isn't her, she's got more problems than my stereotype; she's a mental case. She could be a mental case: delusional and making everything up; perhaps she, a stalker, pretended to have a life with this famous man and this composition book was her chalice to her twisted "life" with him.**_

It wasn't until he found the first newspaper clipping that he finally had to accept it was her: it was from a gallery opening, dated a year after the first journal entry that laid his doubts to rest. The headline read "World Famous Novelist Christens Gallery" and, underneath the headline was a picture of a tall, handsome man with his arm around Romoly, both smiling happily for the camera, their names printed underneath the picture. House studied their picture, that happiness on her face making her entire being come to life in a way he'd never seen, nor had ever provoked, in someone else before…until the previous night, in his arms.

Setting down the book for a moment, he thought back to the previous night for the uncountable time, the sounds of her moans closing his eyes with remembrance. He could've sworn she did come to life again last night as he kissed her shoulder and felt her move with him; as the cadence of her poetry nearly brought him to his knees. He suddenly realized what an idiot he truly was for stopping them. If he'd known he'd have the longing in his stomach for her like he did then, he certainly wouldn't have stopped.

And now that House is learning about Clif? _**I need to take whatever she wants to give, before she realizes what a loser I truly am,**_ he thought. House looked at their picture again. _**Especially since she could have anyone she wanted…even though she is a librarian.**_

Sighing with frustration, he opened his eyes and picked up the book again.

The more he read, the more he learned of a woman happy with her life…but a woman continually growing frustrated with it at the same time. She talked about the endless literary parties and socials; book signings and lectures. She talked about her growing frustration with Clifton and how he had begun to take their relationship for granted, his selfishness becoming an increasing problem. It was bordering on obsession: the woman couldn't seem to have a life outside him or the library.

And it was when House got to an entry, the first of what would prove to be many, dated two and a half years into their relationship that made House's blood begin simmering…

_August 30, 2005:_

_This morning, Clif did something he's never done before: unprovoked rage. It was odd: we were in the kitchen, getting ready for the day as usual. We'd finished breakfast and as my back was turned, his breakfast plate sailed beside me and hit the wall. I screamed and turned around to find him standing behind me, watching me with pure, unadulterated hatred brimming from his face. I'd never seen anything like it. It absolutely terrified me. When I tried to talk to him, he wouldn't listen; just flew off the handle with some nonsense about "I saw you watching him" when I had no idea who "him" was. When I asked him he simply said, "You know who I'm talking about." Suddenly, as quickly as it began, he stopped, his face fell and he left the room. Five minutes later he stormed out of the apartment and didn't come back for the rest of the day. It was my day off and I didn't do anything except hang around the apartment, waiting for his return. When he did finally return he acted as if nothing happened. When I asked him about it he looked at me as if I were smokin' a peace pipe or something. "What are you talking about? That didn't happen." He seemed genuinely confused…and maybe he was. But I'm not sure what to do. Do I do something or act like it was the random event it seemed to be?_

"You idiot!" House screamed at the book. "That's a classic sign of Paranoid Schizophrenia. He needs a doctor, not some good ole' fashion lovin'!" House continued reading, the subsequent entries filled with accounts of occasionally similar behavior; the more and more he read, though, the more he noticed how the accounts gradually became more frequent until that's all she wrote about. As House continued reading, he grew angrier with Romoly. "That's pathetic, woman!! I never imagined you to stay with that loser!"

Nevertheless, he couldn't put the fascinating novel in his hands down…nor could he think any less of her, either. He just felt it was ok to scream names at the book in his hands. "You double idiot!" House screamed when he reached the next to the last entry. "Haven't you learnt ANYTHING?" If he'd waited and read the last entry he would've had his question answered.

_January 29, 2006:_

_Well, I'm finally out of the hospital. I just spent 5 days there, after Clif wailed on me this last time. I'm still confused about what happen: one minute I'm writing my poetry in the living room, the next minute Clif's standing over me with the rolling pin, his eyes blazing, his mouth contorted with rage. I've never seen anyone so mad…then he let lose. It took ten minutes of my screaming and our loud ruckus to finally alert the neighbors, who called the police. _

_I've finally decided to leave; I know that, by now, that's too little too late but I still haven't figured out what's going on. He won't tell me anything. I thought that I could do something to help him, perhaps get him some help. But repeatedly, and after every incident, he'd say he never needed help. And the makeup sex was always amazing; it constantly reminded me of how he loves me. He does love me but he's sick and he won't do anything about it. You know, this just makes me wonder what his wife went through._

_Anyway, I'm now staying with my friend Samantha and her husband John until I can get my life together, away from Clif. You know, I haven't seen Clif since he hit me. I need to get away; to start anew. As much as I hate to say this, I need to leave Clif…but I don't want to. There are so many great things about him and I've learned so much as a writer and as a woman. _

_If anything, I've learned that the stupid, naïve girl will never get you through life; it was certainly time to grow up. _

_I do have a feeling he's hiding things a lover shouldn't be kept from…especially since I seem to be in the line of his fire. I just don't know what to do. I'm afraid of going back…just as afraid as leaving him._

_Tomorrow I'll take Samantha and John with me; we'll get my things. It's time to leave._

"Well, it's about time you grew up," House murmured shaking his head with complete indignation. "She's smarter than this; she knows to leave. It's all those storybooks she's been brainwashing herself with, thinking she can change him. That's a joke."

When House turned the page, what he saw stopped him in his tracks. He'd known that Clifton James had been in a shootout, when he'd been shot and killed by police. He was fairly young, around 43 when he died. Upon reading the full newspaper account in the clipping at the back of the book, House realized the situation was far more serious than he once thought.

This was something he needed Romoly to tell him about. And right away. Slamming the book shut, he sat up and looked at the digital clock on her nightstand…7:30 p.m. And she STILL wasn't home. Extremely worried now, House grabbed his cane and the composition book and booked it out of there. The only logical place she could be was the library…

*****


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Arriving at the Princeton Public Library, House parked his car next to the two cars in the medium-sized parking lot and limped inside. The first person he saw wasn't Romoly: it was Wanda. She was back…and not too excited to see him.

"Oh, it's you again. Have you come to give me a stroke; perhaps a bit of kidney failure thrown in for good measure?" She crossed her arms over her ample bosom and stared him down.

"In your dreams," House retorted, staring right back. She just narrowed her eyes in return.

"Wanda? What's going…" the voice stopped when it heard who was talking. The two adults turned to see Romoly striding in, carefully watching House for any indication of why he was there…at that moment. "What are you doing here?"

House, careful not to say too much since he didn't want to say something that may cause him to have to do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on her, simply watched both women. "I came here to talk to you."

Romoly looked at him in surprise but, nodding, turned to Wanda. "Wanda, why don't you go ahead and take off? I've got everything covered here." Wanda nodded and turned then stopped when Romoly said, "Wait just a moment Wanda. Do you still have those pictures from your burlesque days?"

Wanda turned back around and smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Yep. They're right here…" And, striding purposefully to her desk, reached under for her handbag. She unzipped the leather parcel and, after a few moments of looking, pulled out a couple of old, faded photographs. She laid them out on the desk counter and House moved in to take a look. What he saw completely surprised him: it was most certainly Wanda…and he was very wrong about her body. When she was a young woman she was a knockout.

Romoly watched the realization cross his face as he looked at the pictures…then almost laughed with delight. This was almost too delicious. "So, do you believe me now?"

House regarded the pictures then, for once, decided just to shut up; it really was a lot safer than digging a hole for himself.

She saw he wasn't going to say anything else so she let it go; she got what she wanted. "Ok, Wanda. Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Wanda nodded and, gathering her things, threw an evil eye to House as she scooted out the library. Once she was gone, Romoly locked the door, turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED and began shutting the blinds on the door and adjacent windows. House's eyebrow lifted as he looked at his watch. "It's 8:00. Don't you close at 9:00??"

Romoly shrugged, still faced away from him, as she battened down the hatches for the night. "We haven't had anyone come by for an hour; besides, I'm the boss and can set my own hours. How do you feel about that?"

_No problems here,_ House thought. He grinned. "Assertive…I like that."

She turned, smirked at House and tried to move as far away from him as she could, to the other side of the library, as a matter of fact. That, of course, didn't discourage him in the least…he just followed her. As she picked up books from the tables and floor in the children's reading room, Romoly asked, "What are you doing here? Really?"

How was House supposed to admit that he was worried? He'd just dodge the issue, like usual. "I didn't get my poem."

_**So, he missed me, huh? Doesn't he know I'm here to AVOID him? How can I face him after yesterday, when all I want to do is jump him?**_ "Really? Well…" Romoly stopped and after neatly piling the children's books onto a shelf in the children's room, led him to the poetry section of the library. Finding the latest edition of "The Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry" on a shelf closest to the brick wall, she handed it to him. "Here you go. Pick one…they're all good." She attempted to move around him but he moved in front of her in the narrow row, blocking her only exit.

He rolled his eyes and put down the book. She was starting to get nervous, just as she always did when he was around. Seeing her squirm, he held up the black and white composition book. "Why don't you choose one from here instead?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped in horror; she pointed to it wordlessly. Quickly recovering, she coughed and, never taking her eyes from it, asked, "Where did you get that from?"

"Why, your night table of course. Where else? Isn't that where you left it?" House asked matter-of-factly. _Why lie?_

"And why do you have it?"

He shrugged. "It's a good read but I need some help with parts. You got _Cliff Notes_ for this?"

At "Cliff" she turned pale but stood her ground. "Just leave Dr. House."

"What happened to Greg? I was Greg last night."

Her color quickly returned to her face when the reality of his devious actions settled in. Standing straight, she looked him in the eye. "Get out of my way." The glare from her eyes must've been enough for him to relent…for the present. Stepping out of the way, he watched as she marched around him, away from the confinement of the stacks. Suddenly stopping, she turned around and placed her hands on her hips. "Why must you insist on invading my workplace?"

"Why do you insist on avoiding me?"

"What makes you think I'm avoiding you?" She turned around once again and walked away, moving toward the front desk. Little-lost-puppy-House followed on her heels.

"You never work this late. Besides, you said so yourself: you're the boss; you can set your own hours. You wanted to work late to avoid me."

_**Damn, he's really good at this,**_ Romoly thought. _**This must happen to him a lot.**_ She kept her back to him as she straightened things on the desk, hopefully encouraging him to leave. She tried again… "Why did you break into my apartment and why did you snoop? You could've just asked me about any deep, dark secrets I had. I wouldn't have told you but it wouldn't have hurt to ask."

He rolled his eyes. "You're a librarian; you don't have any deep dark secrets. Well, maybe there's that occasional dastardly miscataloging incident, where you stick a book of poetry in with the Civil War history, just to see if anyone would notice." He chuckled in his own way. "You librarians are so bad." House was trying to get her as stirred up as she was the week before, when she planted that amazing kiss on him. The possibility of having sex with her in the library suddenly became oh so delicious. He was so going to push this as far as he could. "While cataloging poetry with the Civil War History is bad, it's not nearly as bad as moving the Erotic stories to the young adult section. Now wouldn't that be a blunder?"

_**Romoly, don't listen to him,**_ she coached herself. _**He's trying to get your goat. Don't let him.**_

"That would be pretty bad. You'd be amazed at some of the urban legends that come out of libraries. Did you hear the one about the librarian who failed to do laundry and had no clean panties? Well, unfortunately, the librarian also had no clean trousers and had to wear a skirt. And guess what happened next?"

House acted like he thought real hard when, in actuality, he knew what was coming next. "Did someone meet the beaver??"

Romoly wasn't going to be repulsed by that comment…she'd just continue the story. "She fell off the step stool, right in front of the Father from the local parish. Poor guy didn't know where to look."

And House, quite impressed with her, finished the story with a grin on his face. "What did you do next?"

Romoly turned her back to him and marched to the other end, trying to get away; House never too far behind. Stupid girl; she should've known House would've followed her and that she couldn't get away. Stopping next to the reading area in the general nonfiction section, Romoly turned to find him no more than three feet from her. "Just go away."

"Not until you tell me about what's in this book."

"Did you even read it?"

"Yep. Front to back, cover to cover."

"Then there's no need for further discussion; there's nothing more to tell."

"Perhaps if you used rhyming words, I could understand it better," House bitterly spat out. "After all, isn't that the only way you'll get through to me?? You need to explain this last entry and Clif's death."

Despite what she told herself, there was only so much she could take; after that, she would just let herself fume more. "No I don't and you need to leave. Right. Now."

"Nope." House said, his voice wavering a bit. He could see how she was getting upset and he loved every moment of it.

Romoly's eyebrow lifted. "Is that right?"

House shifted feet; he was so close to just grabbing her, throwing her onto the nearest…well, any surface would do…and ripping her clothes off. To hell with those "invisible barriers": those…whatEVERS…that always held him back from something really, REALLY good in his life. He could make all the excuses he wanted: that there was something fishy with her; etc., etc., when he knew it was just him, all along.

He decided to do what his hormones…and his heart…had frantically been trying to tell him he should've done all along: pursue the little librarian. "That is right. I'm bigger, stronger and I have a cane."

Romoly laughed wickedly. "Oh really? You? A cripple?"

And House had had enough; he was the first to break. Dropping his cane, he hobbled forward and took her face in his large, lithe hands. Sidling up closer to her, he planted his lips on hers, his torso rubbing her stomach.

She fought him, trying to get away. Romoly was tired of playing whatever game he was so good at playing and she'd been avoiding him for a reason. He was ruining everything.

But that reason couldn't erase the delicious sensation of his tongue begging entrance…or his rough, calloused hands that snagged wisps of hair that fell from her hairclip as he held her face…or the urgency in his entire body.

_**Why are you fighting?**_ She asked herself. _**Just take whatever he has to give you and deal with the consequences later. Do you really want to go through life NOT knowing what if feels like to have ALL of him?**_ Truth was she didn't. Romoly stopped fighting and simply submitted with a sigh.

House broke away long enough to breathlessly ask, "Got any dark corners in this place?"

She watched his mouth (_**Oh that glorious mouth…**_) as she nodded. "This way…"

*****


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Finding a full-size couch in the nearest corner of the fiction section, they sat as his mouth frantically relocated hers, moving and teasing their plump, pink goodness. She pushed him up against the back of the couch and straddled him, careful to avoid his bad leg. House moaned with the feel of her inner thighs and torso against his flat stomach. She looked down at him and sighed, the blues of his eyes blazing brightly for only her.

"It's about time," he muttered, leaning up to kiss his way along her jaw to behind her ear. She murmured gibberish as his hands moved up her outer thighs to cup her perfect butt (_**Oh so perfect**_) and pull her closer to him, as if it were actually possible. Romoly ground her torso suggestively against his stomach, eliciting a painful groan from House. He could've sworn he felt the heat he was generating inside her through her black trousers.

Coughing, she whispered, just audible enough for him, "Do I still have to disprove your stupid theory?"

House continued nibbling as he wondered what she had in store for him. "What'd you got in mind?"

Romoly smiled then threaded her fingers through his short but soft hair, letting him kiss the skin behind her ear until she was senseless. Closing her eyes, she once again urgently rolled her hips against him as she began reciting something that had become second nature to her. "There are ten main classes of the Dewey Decimal System…" House's stomach flipped with anticipation…and his body released an extra amount of endorphins. She was going to recite the Dewey Decimal System! He growled as she began. "…000 is Computer Science, Information and General Works…"

"You're killing me here," he moaned and tugged up on her short-sleeved magenta turtleneck sweater. She moved away and grabbed the end to fling it off, sending it sailing somewhere she didn't care about at the moment. His eyes instantly devoured what he saw: the magenta-pink lacy under wire bra lifting her breasts to attention, more abundant than he would've ever guessed; the smooth skin of her belly and neck; her look of apprehension at his seeing her without her shirt.

Romoly cleared her throat and continued. "100 is Philosophy and Psychology…" House's prickly lips moved from where he'd returned to her ear down her jaw, to her chin… "200…" He was nibbling her bottom lip; everything was going hazy for Romoly. "…is…Religion…" She groaned when he stuck his tongue in her mouth. Moving her hands to his chest she began lightly caressing, swirling her fingers in the hypnotizing pattern of his tongue.

He yanked his mouth away and, with hazy eyes, watched her bite her lip as she continued to driving him crazy with her gyrations. House suddenly smiled, his hands moving from their positions on her perfect hips to cup her breasts. Romoly groaned as his thumb pads grazed the soft, sensitive skin just above the top of each brassiere cup. "I can see you've been reading the pop-up books, haven't you?"

She grinned, her hair spilling from her hairclip. Slowly lifting her hands to her hair, she released the curtain of sweet-smelling soft locks. "Someone once told me how important it is to listen to your doctor," she whispered then gasped as he leaned his smirky, prickly grin forward, finding their way to the valley between her breasts. Wanting House to say something snarky, since she absolutely loved it, she gasped for breath then muttered, "What are you doing?"

He nibbled on her sweet, sweet skin as he pulled his face from between her breasts. "I'm bobbing for apples…what do you think I'm doing?"

Romoly suddenly decided to milk this for all it was worth…she'd role-play the virginal librarian, if simply to remind him of his earlier comment about her not knowing what she was doing. And she would do it the House-way: very over-the-top, exaggerated and stereotypical.

_**This could be fun…with him "teaching" me as we go… **_"I'm the virginal librarian, remember? How would I know what you were doing?" House smiled brilliantly; he knew…and loved…where this was going. "But…" she paused then put her index finger to her mouth, looking away like a schoolgirl asking directions for something she'd never done before. "…perhaps you could teach me. There's only so much one can learn from pop-up books and porn."

House raised his eyebrow in disbelief; he'd never been more aroused by a role-play. He'd role-played many a time before but never like this. He knew he'd never love being proven wrong so much as right then. "You watched porn?"

Romoly shook her head. "I tried but they actually made me sick. It was the size of the man's…the man's…" Romoly over-exaggeratedly hand gestured the male member, a convincing look of sheer disgust on her face.

House nodded seriously, as if this were a real problem Romoly was actually having. "I see. Well, I think some proper education is in order." He gave her a very serious look, almost as if she were a patient he was diagnosing. "And you're in luck: you've come to the expert. Have no fear," his hands moved from her breasts down to her naval, running his fingers lightly under her trouser waistline to her back. She shivered at the callous fingers that felt like silk to her hormone-doused brain. "I'll take you through it step by step. From what I can see," he paused, his eyes devouring her whole, like a leopard devours his prey before lunchtime, "I have a feeling you're a quick learner."

Romoly nodded, attempting to keep her giggling at bay. _**This is FUN…**_ "I catch on very quickly…but I'm a visual learner and need hands-on training. For example…" Romoly snaked a hand behind her and tenderly grazed his erection as it pulsated through his jeans. This elicited a groan from House. "…am I doing this right?"

House coughed then nodded. "Yes…" He suddenly tilted his head and playfully narrowed his eyes. "…but I think you've cheated. Has someone given you the answers before the exam?"

Romoly gave him a pathetic, "You caught me" look then nodded. "I'm sorry Dr. Professor. There was this guy…" she sighed and looked down, as if ashamed about her "moment of weakness" "…he had a car…I was weak…we had a couple of beers. But I only let him kiss me, I SWEAR!" Romoly held up her fingers in "Scout's Honor". "I feel guilty about getting some of the answers before the final. What do I have to do to make up it? You aren't going to fail me, are you??"

House looked away, contemplating her fate in the class. "Just for cheating, you have to finish reciting the Dewey Decimal System as I'm administering the oral exam." Romoly coughed at his impertinent implication; House simply smirked wider. "The rest of the test comes afterwards."

"Aren't there fundamentals that need to be covered before, like logistics and such?"

House nodded as his hands moved up her arms, to cup her face and thread his fingers in her hair. "There will also be extra credit…" her eyes lit at this as his fingertips massaged her scalp. "You better get started on that Dewey Decimal System; we've got a lot of ground to cover."

*****

Romoly sighed, almost as if he was really demanding too much of her. "Oh the things you make me do for a passing grade. Okay…" Her hands moved to his face, caressing his stubble as she leaned forward for a kiss. Stopping just inches away, she muttered, "Am I doing this right?"

He gulped and nodded. "You'll get brownie points if you stick your tongue in my mouth."

Ignoring their previous tongue kisses to continue the role-play, she scrunched her face. "But isn't that unsanitary?"

He rolled his eyes; she just needed to get on with it. She was killing him… "Just do it."

"Fine…" Fishing for those brownie points, Romoly leaned forward on her knees so her brassiered chest met his fully-clothed chest. Bracing her hands against the back of the couch, she settled her mouth within several inches of his and muttered, "300 is Social Sciences…" she began nibbling on his mouth, swirling her tongue around his bottom lip. He groaned…she was so getting that extra credit... "400 is Language…"

House pulled her mouth away and looked into her eyes as he smoothed away her bangs. "Que bonita…"

She smiled and took his mouth again: unsanitary, unschmanitary. Tongue kissing was too good. Romoly moved her hands underneath his light leather jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and feeling the distance as they had to temporarily stop kissing. But her lips quickly took his again, sucking his bottom one in between her teeth. Suddenly Romoly leaned her head back, his bottom lip still clutched between her teeth. Releasing it with a THWAP!, she asked, "Oh Dr. Professor?"

"Yes Miss Scott?" House asked once he got partial feeling back to his mouth; unfortunately all blood was draining southward so he was quickly losing all coherent thought. _**She really needs to stop asking questions and just get on with it already…**_

"Do I remove your clothes now? I mean, we can't very well have sexual intercourse fully clothed, can we?"

"That class is next semester: Advanced Sexual Positions 201. That one is more time consuming with extra labs that require fancy equipment." Romoly's eyes widened at the possibility but she had no time to comment as his fingers worked underneath her trouser button. "For this beginner's course, Miss Scott…" House's fingers teased the sensitive skin around her belly button; Romoly forgot to breathe. "…we will commence the act of sexual union without the benefit of clothes. Plain English: drop your drawers." She smiled at this as he continued, his fingers working the button loose from its confines. "As you can see I am unbuttoning your trousers. I will then be placing my hands on your lower back. This will cause your trousers to become excessively loose and will drop from your body. Are you ready?"

"So…is this what is meant by dropping your drawers?"

House tilted his head and studied her with a highly-amused expression. He could snark back but why ruin such a beautiful role-play? "Not exactly; your drawers are your panties."

A look of mock realization spread her face. "OHHH…" she nodded, almost as if she were hearing this for the first time. "…I get it. So what do you call what's happening right now?"

_**She really needed to be quiet,**_ House thought. "Torture. Now shut up."

She nodded, not able to stop her growing smile…yet all the while concentrating on how her nerve endings exploded with her caresses. Once House had unbuttoned her trousers, Romoly felt his hands travel into her pants, cupping her butt as the pants fell, his fingers teasing the skin underneath the lacy edges that barely covered the sides of her cheeks. "Dr. Professor, I'm sorry if there was a dress code; I had no silk underwear available. Will these do? I didn't get a syllabus of what to and what not to wear." She pulled away as they looked down at her matching magenta Victoria's Secret lacy Brazilian-cut panties.

House stared, fixated, as he ran his fingers along the lacy panty front; she gasped as they dipped closer to her warm wetness. His fingers tingled from the heat he found there, no doubt generated from his touches. It took a few moments for him to answer. "I'm just glad they're not Fruit of the Looms."

This made her giggle and he smirked. "500 is Natural Science and Mathematics…" She fingered the buttons all along his wrinkled oxford shirt, slowly unbuttoning the shirt.

House moaned. He wasn't going to last long; no matter how many times he pictured Wilson wearing a light blue tutu and prancing around the hospital singing "I Feel Pretty" from _West Side Story_, she kept reminding him how hot for her he was. "Did I tell you this was a timed test?" And it certainly wasn't his brain keeping time either.

"Ok," she murmured and chucked his oxford. Running her hands underneath his t-shirt, she hurriedly removed it and stared at his chest, sparsely covered with a dusting of graying hair. Leaning forward, she kissed down his neck and around his chest, whispering, "600 is Technology…how am I doing?"

"Lie on the couch; I'll show you…" her heart thumped as she gladly did what he said. As she laid back, her undergarments just as enticing as what they held, he realized he wasn't going to make it to the end of the Decimal System. Looking at her panties, he moved his hand up her inner thigh to the waistband, skimming his fingers just inside. "I'm going to remove your panties…or drop your drawers…" Romoly smiled into his eyes "…and show you what comes next. Are you ready?"

Was she ever…

"Just be gentle."

Romoly so didn't mean it.

*****

In no time at all, they were both naked and trembling from feather-light touches and moaned words. None of that had really been necessary; not much foreplay was truly needed after her recitation of the Dewey Decimal System. But both loved foreplay and wanted it from each other; the feeling of first discovery was unlike any other.

"Are you ready?" House murmured as his hands caressed up the inside of her legs, his fingers whispering across the junction of her thighs to her hips, his thumbs brushing her hot, wet curls. She moaned and writhed with knowledge of what was coming next.

Duly noting that the drapes did indeed match the carpet, he impatiently restrained himself from plunging into all that was perfect and beautiful about the human race: the female body. But, even amazing himself, House hadn't asked that question sarcastically or rudely: his tone suggested tenderness. He seemed genuinely interested in making sure she was ready. After all, if a woman wasn't completely ready she made a lousy lover. It was just too bad that House's logic could never entirely be about another person; who's gonna think about House if he didn't think about himself?

She nodded as her brain fired neurons randomly, nearly shutting down just from the feel of his body between her legs; his scruff beard nibbling down her chest, stopping to take bites of her sweetness. He was so lean and lithe, his contoured arms firm beneath her touch. She wrapped her legs around his back and rubbed his sides with her thighs, desperately urging him with her hips. She suddenly found her voice. "What are you waiting for?"

"Absolutely nothing," he murmured and, taking her mouth, moved his hips forward, their sweet union just mere inches away…just as a loud BANG! cut through the stillness of the quiet library. Romoly froze; House apparently didn't notice the intrusion. At first.

She removed her mouth from his. "Did you hear that?" Romoly untangled her legs and moved slightly away from him, enough to inform him he wasn't getting any at that moment.

House groaned; truth be told he'd heard something but it was very faint. He'd actually attributed it to the doors of his brain slamming shut. "What are you talking about??"

BANG! "That, Greg! What is it?"

"It's just the wind, banging the door open and closed."

"But I shut and locked the door."

_**She's right…**_ Before he could say anything, they heard a familiar, "HELLO?? ROMOLY??? I'M SORRY, I FORGOT MY…" and both turned in time to see Wanda wandering back to their corner of the library. Apparently they'd seen her before she saw them but poor Wanda had no warning of what she was walking into to.

When she finally did see them, wrapped around each other and as naked as the day they were born, she simply stared at them a moment…then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell to the ground.

"Uh-oh," House sighed and dropped his head in the valley between Romoly's breasts.

"I think we killed her," Romoly muttered, staring over his head at the woman lying unconscious not ten feet away.

*********


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Ten minutes later, House and Romoly were fully dressed and Wanda had been revived (she'd only fainted, much to everyone's relief). Needless to say, the sex-starved and hormonal couple wasn't very happy.

"I'm sorry, Romoly," Wanda muttered, holding her head and rubbing her eyes as Romoly held a glass of water for her to sip. "I forgot my grandson's birthday present."

Romoly sighed. Placing a hand on Wanda's shoulder, Romoly muttered, "Its ok." She looked up to find House moving towards the door, a resolute and frustrated shuffle in his hobble. "Will you excuse me?" Wanda nodded, catching her breath and sipping on her water.

"Dr. House?"

He stopped hobbling but didn't turn around. This whole situation was just getting to be too much for him. Hanging his head he muttered, "So we're back to 'Dr. House', are we?" Romoly rubbed her eyes and looked up to find he'd turned around to face her. She didn't know what to say to that. He curtly nodded and said, "Fine. I get it." He studied her a few moments then hobbled purposely to her. Snaking an arm around her waist, he pulled her to him and murmured against her hair, "But it will happen. And you will explain the book. I guarantee it." Pulling away to look in her eyes, then her mouth, he bent forward and had his way with her lips, demanding her to know he meant business.

And she believed him.

*****

After taking a moment to collect herself, Romoly turned and walked back to Wanda, only to find that Wanda had been watching the entire exchange with interest and a bit of sadness. "What? Are you doing ok?" Wanda smiled slightly and nodded. "Then why are you sad?"

"I'm giving notice of my retirement."

Romoly was astonished. Sitting down beside her, Romoly took Wanda's hand in her own. "What do you mean, retiring?"

Wanda sighed and set down her water glass. Placing her then-free hand on Romoly's cheek, Wanda smiled, her eyes watching her face. "Romoly, in the nine months you've been here this library has changed so much. Employees get along better; the library's more user-friendly; more people are actually COMING to the library. The transformation is extraordinary…and it's all because of you. You've brought so much life to an otherwise dying institution. I've wanted to be a part of this for as long as possible; I had hoped it would've been longer." Wanda paused. "Judging from everything I've seen tonight, that's not going to happen. I just can't work here anymore."

"Why not? I'm really very sorry you caught us together. I'm your supervisor and you shouldn't have to see that."

Wanda smiled faintly but shook her head. "No sweetie, that's not what I meant. Honey, I've done lots of things I shouldn't. But you don't have anything to worry about; I definitely won't say anything. No," Wanda's smile grew, just as much as Romoly's confusion. "What I mean is that he…Dr. House?" Romoly nodded and Wanda nodded back. "…he's going to be around for a very, very long time." Romoly opened her mouth to protest but Wanda released her hand and held it up. "Romoly, please. I'm serious. I know about these things. I caught him looking at you, the way my Charlie looked at me when we realized it was love." Romoly's eyes widened and Wanda chuckled. "Besides, there's no amount of health care insurance coverage in the world that can protect me from him. If I stay he's just gonna kill me."

Romoly couldn't help it…she started laughing. "I guess you're right. I'm truly sorry about what happened back there. Talk about awkward."

Wanda shrugged then grinned mischievously. "Oh I don't know…he's very sexy and, from what I can tell, very well hung."

Romoly gasped. She never expected to hear THAT from Wanda.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Oh come on girl. I've lived for 65 years; I've seen quite a bit. Just because I married a preacher doesn't mean I've lived in a convent." Wanda paused, studying the girl in front of her. "Romoly, I've been with this library longer than you've been on this earth. In all that time I've never seen this library thrive like it has since you've been here. You really are the best thing that's ever happened to this place. And I know that after everything with Clif it was hard for you to get a job. It wasn't fair but it happened. Honey, I'm more concerned about you; I just want you to be happy. And I certainly hope he can make you happy." She paused and looked over Romoly's shoulder, as if in remembrance. "I did see how he was looking at you. If he doesn't at least like you he's certainly quite taken. Either that or still horny from being interrupted tonight."

Romoly blushed and looked away. She didn't particularly want to talk about this with her but it looked like she didn't have a choice. "Perhaps."

Wanda's eyes widened and she shook her head. "Perhaps? Try absolutely. Why are you denying that?"

"Because when it doesn't work out it'll be bad. What I feel for him," Romoly pointed in the direction House left, "was how I felt with Clif. And it's happened so quickly, just like with Clif. Why did I let myself do it again?"

"My question is why someone like Dr. House?"

"At first I didn't pay him much mind in this category; I only wanted to help him. But the more and more poetry I wrote him…"

"Wait a minute: you wrote him POETRY??" She nodded. "Why on God's Green Earth did you do that?"

"He has this stupid theory about librarians. It's too ridiculous to explain so I won't go there. Just believe me when I say it's completely wrong and I felt the only way it could be handled properly was by writing him poetry. We had some great discussions and I've learned how smart and funny he is. I know I can't change him; I don't even think I want to. But the qualities I see in Dr. House are what I fell for in Clif."

Wanda watched her inquisitively. "Are you scared of Dr. House?"

Romoly slowly shook her head. "Surprisingly I'm not. I don't think he wants to hurt me; he doesn't seem possessive in an irrational way. He does get jealous but his jealousy is extremely juvenile. It's he just wants what he wants. It's very childishly irrational. But underneath that juvenile attitude is a very vulnerable man who does care, no matter what he says or how he acts. And he doesn't have the same problems that Clif had; at least I can now spot the warning signs." Romoly sighed. "I can't be with him. I just can't. It simply won't work out." Romoly was very firm on this resolution.

"What makes you so sure it won't work out?"

"It never does…at least for me. That's for everyone but me. Besides, he's dangerous."

"You're right; he is dangerous. He's certainly not for a nice girl like you. But that's too late; you're gone on him and there's no going back." Romoly stood up and walked to a stack of books randomly thrown on a counter, anything to end the conversation. She kept her back to Wanda and simply fiddled with the books. It was clear she was listening but she couldn't look at Wanda who only shook her head in amusement. "Honey, you can't fool me. I went through something very similar when I met Charlie. He was a preacher and I certainly wasn't. It took me quite awhile to get over the guilt and shame of my life before Charlie. And don't get me STARTED on his family. They saw me as the harlot that came to taint their precious Charlie. It was only when Charlie stood up for us and took a chance that I knew my attitude was wrong. **I** was wrong. And that's what you need to do: you need to stand up for your heart."

Romoly slowed her hands but left her back to Wanda. "But I'm terrified. When I was with Clif, the end had become so bad I thought I could make it better. I tried whatever I thought was necessary to make him happy." She turned around, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I only stayed because if I left I was admitting that nothing else could be done. I wasn't ready to give up on us. There were so many good things there that I just kept remembering why I loved him." Romoly's gaze moved to the nearby shelf of Military History, her eyes numbly moving over the titles. "And it had been so good for so long. Wanda," she looked back at the other woman who was watching her intently. "I told myself I had 2½ good years with him. Looking back now, I realize there were a lot of little things, issues that should've tipped me off about how he was like but by the time I had the courage to actually do something it was way too late…and that's when it happened."

Wanda knew the full story; she didn't need Romoly to tell her. "And what does Dr. House think about your situation with Clif?"

"You aren't going to believe this," Romoly moved to the table where the diary still sat. Picking it up, she brought it back to Wanda. Handing it to her, Romoly sighed. "He came to the library with my diary, demanding an explanation about what was in it. I told him that if he read it he didn't need an explanation. He wouldn't accept that."

Wanda hesitantly took it from her outstretched hand and looked at her skeptically. "How did he get this?"

"He went snooping around in my apartment. Claims he was upset because I didn't leave him a poem for that day."

"So that gave him license to pry?"

"I guess in his mind it did. He's still very much like a child."

Wanda studied her. "You don't sound upset. Most people, when their diaries are stolen, are usually pretty mad. Why aren't you upset? Or did you want him to find your diary?"

Romoly shrugged. "Honestly, I'm pretty numb to the whole idea. I really couldn't tell you if I was mad or not. When everything with Clif started going sour, I found I couldn't express my feelings, good or bad, for fear of what he'd do. So I learned to become neutral. Unfortunately this made the actual feeling of those feelings almost impossible; I forgot how to express anger; how to express happiness. I get frustrated but don't raise my voice. In this case, I know how I should feel…I just don't know how to express it." Wanda watched her, amazed at her admission. _**This Clif guy was bad news,**_ she thought then stopped when Romoly continued. "Ok, what am I to do?"

"You can't avoid him, especially since he's your neighbor, right?" Romoly nodded. "So, what you do is this: let him come to you. He obviously is a pursuer; let him do what he does best. And you know you'll have to tell him about Clif, right?"

She sighed then nodded. "I know. But maybe I'll wait until after we've had sex. After all, why ruin a good moment?" Romoly paused. "You know, I never asked you why you had a heart attack that day. And now I'm dying to know since you only fainted when you caught us together tonight."

Wanda's face paled and didn't answer right away. "Well, Charlie and I didn't want to say anything yet but, since I'm retiring, I might as well tell you. A week before my heart attack, Charlie was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer." Romoly gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "I was under stress…apparently too much stress. Dr. House, with his scruffy face and scary demeanor, was just the straw that broke the camel's back."

"Oh Wanda," Romoly muttered and hugged her. "Why didn't you say anything? And why didn't you retire sooner?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Wanda joked weakly.

"Of course not but doesn't Charlie need you?"

Wanda pulled away. "He told me to keep coming here, that I needed to continue living even though he…he…" She began balling and Romoly simply held her, until her sniffling tapered off.

"Are you going to be ok?"

Wanda slowly nodded then, brushing the tears away, smiled weakly. "I think so. But tonight really has helped me."

Now Romoly's face contorted in confusion. "Really? How?"

Wanda's smile grew. "Because when I get depressed I can think of your well-hung man."

Romoly gasped…but silently agreed.

*****


	23. ABCOL Chapter 22

I do apologize; I am shamefully behind on posting this story. But I am back and I will finish posting it!

**Chapter 22**

"WILSON!" House shrieked across the lunch crowd in the hospital cafeteria. It was the next day and House hadn't been able to sleep, at least not without Romoly's naked image running through every dream.

Wilson, standing in line with his turkey sandwich, potato chips and large coffee, sighed and closed his eyes. House was normally obnoxious; Wilson had learnt to accept this. But there were varying degrees of his obnoxiousness. And this desperate screaming across the public lunchroom told Wilson there was a bug in his friend's boxers that he couldn't get rid of.

"Well, hello to you too House," Wilson greeted the hospital menace, just as the menace stole his potato chips from his tray. Fortunate for Wilson, he had enough time to grab another bag and pay before House made another scene. "What do you want?" He led the limping lunatic and his lunch tray to a table in the corner; judging from the look on House's face this was going to be a long discussion.

"Can somebody be screwed…and not screwed…at the same time?"

Wilson tilted his head and threw his friend a truly confused look. "What are you talking about?"

"That chick from _Full House_, Jodi Sweetin. Did you know she was married to a cop but was a druggie at the same time?"

Wilson's forehead was hurting from the confused look on his face. "Now I'm really confused: how does a drug-addicted child star have anything to do with you or this conversation?"

House was too busy digging into the potato chip sack to answer right away. "I did and didn't get screwed last night."

"What are you talking about?"

House sighed. "I went to the library last night, since she didn't come home at her normal time…"

"We're talking about your neighbor, right?"

Now House looked up to glare at his best friend. "Of course I am…and don't you know her name? Aren't you seeing her?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and asked, "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not dating your girlfriend!"

"It seems I'm not either…" House's voice trailed off in disappointment.

"Huh?"

"Last night I went to the library to ask her about her diary. I needed more information."

Now Wilson started at this. "Wait a minute…her DIARY? And where did you find this diary anyway?"

House rolled his eyes. "In the back of the second drawer of her night table. It's not like she had it on display. That would've been easier to find. This took some digging."

"Why were you there?" Wilson had a feeling that what he was going to say wasn't going to be nice.

"Do I have to spell everything out for you?"

"Yep."

"I didn't get my poem so I went to her apartment. I didn't hear anyone inside…"

Wilson sat back in the cafeteria chair and folded his arms over his chest. He wasn't sure he really wanted to hear this but figured why not? He's already there. "Did you use a glass?"

"Of course not. That would be spying."

"Good."

"I put my ear up to her door."

"Oh brother," Wilson muttered. "Ok, House, you do know this is unhealthy behavior, right?"

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

_**I'm not sure…**_ "Ok, ok. What happened next?"

"I couldn't hear anyone so I decided to go in, just to make sure. For all I knew, she'd fallen and not been able to get back up. So…"

"So you looked under the Welcome mat for a key to unlock the door."

House looked at him surprised. _**Had he been to her apartment?**_ "Have you been to her apartment?"

Wilson paused before saying, "Aren't you going to ask me how I know about the Welcome mat and how I'd known to ask you?"

"Not about the key. I'm predictable; you knew I'd do it. But I will ask you about the mat."

Wilson sighed and spread his hands apart. Ok: Wilson would simply backpedal and say he was dating Romoly Scott…just to see House squirm. "Fine…Romoly Scott and I really are dating. We have a weekly "date" where I pick her up, take her to the swankiest restaurant in the city, and then we go back to my hotel room and have sex. She's my weekly booty call."

House narrowed his eyes at his friend's blatant lie. "You wish."

"Actually I do wish. She's hot."

"How did you know about the mat?"

Wilson shrugged then rolled his eyes. "Oh come on House…95% of people have doormats. It was a guess." Wilson paused and looked at his friend critically. Within seconds of realization his forehead cleared of the critical wrinkling as he studied his friend. "Oh my…you really ARE in love. You're "for real" jealous, not that adolescent "give me YOUR toy because you have it and I don't" jealous." Wilson watched his friend fidget and had to ask, "Something happened, didn't it? Does this have anything to do with your "Can somebody be screwed…and not screwed…at the same time?" question?"

"Would you just can it? You've got a mouth the size of Montana. Ok, fine, the key wasn't underneath the mat but there was one behind the wreath."

Wilson would just have to deal with that non-answer. But the wreath intrigued him…"What wreath?"

"The wreath on the door. The key was taped to the other side. It was a breeze to get in."

Wilson didn't know how much of this behavior he could take. "Why do you do this?"

House looked at him with a completely bewildered face. "Do what?"

"Why can't you behave like normal people? You aren't her father; you don't have the right to expect any sort of loyalty from her."

House looked down at his chip bag. "If I WERE her father, I could've gone to jail for what we almost did last night."

Wilson's eyebrows jumped and his eyes widened. "You mean, you had sex with her?!?!" Those last words came out almost desperately.

House shook his head then smirked a bit. "ALMOST. We were interrupted by that broad Wanda."

"The one you gave a stroke to?"

House rolled his eyes. "It was a HEART ATTACK."

"And how far did you get?"

"My foot was about three inches from home plate."

Wilson's eyes widened. "Oh…my…" He paused, mourning for his friend. To get interrupted at that point really sucked. "How was she?"

"Like I'm gonna tell you."

"I know you want to." House looked at his friend, only grinned broadly and Wilson understood loud and clear. "Now I understand House. You didn't get screwed but you're still screwed because you'll never be able to go on without her."

"Not quite right Jimmy…I won't be able to go on without her BODY. A man doesn't come that close to Paradise without being denied at least just a step inside…and my foot was on her doorstep."

Wilson, in an attempt to get his himself under control, since he was imagining how she must've looked, coughed and asked, "What did the diary say?" And House spilled the beans, remembering everything from cover to cover. When he was done, Wilson sat back in his chair with a sigh. "Wow. That's sad. What are you going to do about it?"

"Get more information, like what really happened the day Clif died…and how she was caught up in everything. But I'm going to make her come to me."

Wilson shook his head. He didn't think she would come to him, especially not after everything he'd just learned about her. "House, I don't think she will come to you. I think she'll let you go before anything is done. You've got to make the first move."

"I always make the first move."

"Now there's where you're wrong. Everyone else moves before you do…you'd rather live miserably until someone moves." House opened his mouth to protest but his friend held up his hand to stop him. "If you want another chance at her body…" House's body jumped to attention with the possibility, "…you're gonna have to play her game her way." Wilson paused. "How are you going to do it?"

"I don't know yet…it depends on how long I can go without talking to her. I might resort to more poetry…"

Wilson groaned. "That's probably not a good idea."

House shrugged. "Actually, it's brilliant; the worse the poetry, the most chance she'll talk to me just to shut me out."

"What a conniving, evil plan. That'll do it all the time," Wilson sarcastically said as he gathered his trash onto his tray. But House wasn't listening; he was plotting.

_**Let's see how long she can stay away from me…**_ he really did hope it wasn't too long…

*****


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Unfortunately for House, a week went by without any contact: they didn't see each other; no poems were left; not a word was spoken. Needless to say, House was in agony; his only comfort was the remembrance of the feel of her body as it lingered, tingled through his body, her hot breath driving him insane.

But, after a week and a half, House had had enough; he simply couldn't hold out any longer. He needed to know why the events of the book had changed her so much…and what really happened. He also needed her, at least her body anyway; he still wouldn't admit if he needed her in any other way.

So, one night after work, he sat in front of his computer, a rhyming dictionary website open. As he began writing, he told himself he wasn't being sweet and he wasn't being romantic…he was just looking out for the Little Mister.

However, as the writing progressed, he noticed that the intention of writing bad poetry had changed. It went from being all about writing bad poetry so she'll talk to him to becoming a way of telling her what he wanted from her without actually verbally saying anything. And he found he couldn't deliberately write badly; he was too much of a perfectionist, the same sort of perfection that kept him striving for the mystery illness. It took him two hours but he was happy with the result: it had just a few really bad parts but otherwise it spoke of what he was feeling…

I already told you

I wouldn't write another;

But here I am

You're makin' me suffer.

Since you won't talk

Unless it's in rhymes,

And it's only with this

You'll give me the time.

I am very pissed off…

Where's that fiery hellcat?

I know you're there,

My beautiful, spunky brat.

There's no way you're innocent,

And you sure ain't meek…

But behind that librarian façade

And that amazing physique

Is a woman so damned

Burning, simmering, smoking hot.

Why not show me

All ya've got?

I can still feel

Your body surrounding mind,

Your hot, sweet breath

Tickling along my spine.

I need to be

INSIDE your very essence;

If only to go

For rest and convalescence.

Just show me how

I make you feel;

Just show me how

I make you kneel, baby.

I need to know

Before the night's through

Where do we stand…

And would you like some chocolate fondue?

Yeah, Yeah, I know that last line was lame but I'm not Shakespeare. Live with it.

**Your Horny Next Door Neighbor **

Looking at his watch, it was 8:00 p.m. Hurriedly printing it off, he hobbled across the hall. Taking a deep breath he pounded loudly on her door with the handle of the cane.

He instantly heard muffled voices but didn't think anything about it. Romoly probably had friends and they were there for a visit. He then heard a muffled "COMING!"

Within moments the door flew open, revealing Romoly…and she wasn't dressed for company. Her hair was wet and combed back; her body smelt of soap…and she was wearing a man's black long-sleeved oxford shirt. The shirt wasn't hers…and it certainly wasn't his either. House narrowed his eyes as he took in the lush scene in front of him, his body responding despite the fact that she was wearing another man's shirt.

When she saw him, she gasped; she knew what she was wearing and how he would take it.

"What's going on?"

Romoly opened her mouth to answer when they both heard… "Rom, hon? Who's at the door?" Romoly closed her eyes and House looked past her to find a very good looking man come out of the kitchen wearing what looked to be a sweat suit. The man stopped and smiled. "Hello!"

House very slowly turned back to Romoly who couldn't look up. "Well, ROM…" he slowly said, putting so much emotion into those two little words. "…I see you're busy. Excuse me for interrupting." House wadded up the poem and threw it on the floor at her feet, then turned on his heel and left.

*****


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"GREG!"

He didn't stop, just kept booking it to his apartment. For some unknown reason (because they still weren't anything to each other), he felt she'd betrayed him more than Wilson ever could. When he got to his apartment, he moved to slam the door but she stopped it, pushing her way in. Slamming it herself, she turned around to find him six feet away, his eyes blazing like two lasers honing in on their target.

Keeping her voice at an even keel, she said, "That's not what you think."

House laughed bitterly. "Oh really? It sure looked like another man had been using your shower, probably your bed as well. He obviously wasn't the cable guy."

_**Wait a minute,**_ she thought as they stared each other down. _**Why do I have to explain myself to him? We're not even dating.**_ "You know what? I don't even know why I said anything. We aren't anything to each other, just neighbors with horrible misconceptions about the other. What I do in my life is none of your business." With that, she turned to walk out but House had longer legs. He shut the door and turned her to him. Grabbing her arms, he stared her down.

There wasn't much Romoly could say except "No."

"No? No what?"

"No, I won't do this."

He narrowed his eyes. "This is always about you, isn't it? What about what I want?"

Romoly fought against his hands but he kept her there. "I already know what you want…you want to make me the next woman you've slept with. You don't care one whit about me."

"You have no clue what I want."

"Fine…" she finally released herself from his grasp and folded her arms over her chest. "…what do you want?"

"I want you to get mad at me; I want you yelling at me; I want you throwing things at me. I want to see that smoldering, mouthy woman I know's lurking there. I want your eyes to blaze and your mouth to pout and your pulse to race. I want you hot and bothered. I want you to FEEL." He paused and saw her look of confusion. He wasn't getting through to her…so he upped the ante.

"Does **HE**…" House's voice deepened with emotion as he pointed to her apartment and the man inside it, the thought of someone else touching her only making him angrier still. "…make your heart race? Does he make you scream?" House lowered his hand and stepped closer, all the while his blue eyes watching, waiting, for ANYTHING that might resemble anger. _**There…**_ he thought, watching the gradual narrowing of her eyes. _**She's starting to get upset.**_ This only spurred him on. Leaning down, he lowered his voice to almost a growl. "As he's kissing your thighs and caressing your soft skin, do you pull his hair in painful ecstasy? How about as he's moving inside you…do you bite his shoulder to muffle your screams? How does he make you feel?"

He studied her face, watching it twitch with the beginnings of emotion. House noted the deep breathing and the enticing movements of her breasts hence. He was getting to her. But he needed more…he needed her to lash out at him: she needed to prove she was alive.

"Does **HE** feel your pleasure…" he looked at her mouth, the perfect pink bud quivering with hidden emotions. And House couldn't help it…he was getting excited: very, very excited. "…as you moan his name, purring softly in his ear? Does he see it on your face as you come for him, your orgasm violent beneath his touch?"

Her eyes roamed his face and landed on his mouth, if only to watch the very torture he was inflicting. Her teeth began kneading her bottom lip, restraining herself against the odd mixture of pleasure and pain his words were generating. He was talking about the most intimate actions a woman could have as if they were meaningless words to be thrown around, used in the most humiliating, damaging and hurtful ways.

But what hurt the most was that she was picturing herself doing everything he said…but only with him. Romoly never imagined being with anyone else, no matter how much she wanted to hit the object of her desire at that very moment. "Are your eyes squeezed tightly as you hold yourself back? Or do you let yourself go, screaming his name in ecstasy? Does he get to see that?" House's voice rose suddenly, making Romoly jump back a good couple feet. He practically screamed the last sentence…"How does he make you feel?"

For the first time in years, Romoly was seeing stars as angry tears fell down her face. She felt disgusted, humiliated…and completely on fire. Which was why she let herself go for the first time in years. After all, he REALLY needed to shut up. With blazing eyes, she hauled off and slapped him across the face, harder than she'd ever hit anyone. House reeled back, holding his face.

"Don't you EVER talk like that to me again! Just who do you think you are? You know NOTHING about what's going on; you have no idea who that is…and who are YOU to tell me how to feel?"

And it was at that very moment he knew he loved the woman. When he didn't answer at first, she turned to leave but he grabbed her (_**No…HIS!**_) shirttail and turned her to face him. Watching her beautiful face for a moment, he slammed her tightly to him and attacked her mouth. Romoly fought him, finally wrestling herself from his grasp and stepping a few feet away from him. "NO! You can not kiss me and expect me to give in! You want me mad? Fine. Here I am, mad." Looking around, she found a bookcase and, grabbing a handful of books, began chucking them at him, one by one. House yelped as they hit their target.

"Just what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm getting mad. Isn't this what you wanted?" THUNK.

"OOF!" House yelped as a skeletal anatomy book hit him squarely in the gut. Catching his breath, he moaned, "But you're a librarian; aren't books sacred?"

Throwing the last book in her hand, she hit him upside the head. Looking around again, Romoly decided to invade his space just like he invaded hers. Running to the bedroom, she found lots of things she could throw, including a miniature statue of the human brain. She went to pick it up when she saw his computer screen. Stopping for a moment to read the poem still on the screen, she failed to notice House until he was right behind her. With each word she read, her anger lessened and her skin crawled at what she considered was bad use of grammar and rhyme. But her passion involuntarily increased and she fought to keep a straight face at the chocolate fondue ending.

She turned back and just watched him as he watched her apprehensively, probably wondering what she was going to do to him next. And she couldn't help herself: she slapped him good and hard one last time, nearly knocking that apprehensive look off his face. Rubbing his cheek, House scrunched his forehead in confusion, a look which only deepened when she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Growing bolder, Romoly lifted her right leg, wrapped it around his left thigh and then steadily ground her torso against his burgeoning erection. He moaned with pleasure and ran his hand down her body until it reached the hem of the shirt, stopping at her thigh. When his fingers roamed under the shirt and brushed through her warm, wet curls, his groan became eclipsed by her almost painful mewling. Romoly was completely naked under that shirt…and panting for more.

And that's what snapped him out of the hormonal haze. He was not about to sleep with her if her lover was waiting in her apartment for her. While he might've done that to a woman who meant nothing to him, she was hardly nothing…she was quickly becoming everything. And he felt she betrayed him. Pushing her away, he took a few steps back, this time leaving her confused….and his own fingers tingling from her body.

"What??" She asked through swollen lips and half-wet, frizzled hair. She looked terrible…but to House she only looked more delectable.

"Who is HE??" He pointed toward the apartment.

Quickly reminding herself of the situation, she ran a hand through her hair and caught her breath. "Not until you tell me why I need to tell you."

_**Uh-oh,**_ he thought, running a hand through his own hair and turning away from her. _**What am I going to tell her? That I love her? House doesn't do love. **_He didn't answer her…and she took that as her answer.

Nodding sadly, she started walking out of the room when he said it… "I love you."

*****


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Romoly stopped. Not sure she heard him right, she slowly turned around, only to find him facing away and watching the rain as it fell in sheets outside his living room window.

"What did you say?"

House sighed and turned around. _**Ok, this has got to be one of the best performances of your life, House,**_ he coached himself as he studied his feet. _**You've got to be an even better liar than that one and only time you slept with Cuddy and told her she was good. Talk about that one being the performance of your life. Now you've got to make Romoly believe you're serious…no matter how much you're fighting it. **_With his head hanging down, House rubbed the tip of his thumb against his forehead and quietly said, "I love you."

Romoly studied him. She knew enough about him to know when he was using pretty words for his own gain. And this was definitely one of those times. Now she was getting upset again. "Don't you dare say that to me; don't flippantly throw about words you don't understand." He threw her a confused look. Not sure if he was really confused or just being difficult, she sighed and asked, "Do you know what 'flippantly' means?"

He gave her a blank stare then looked at his shoes pitifully.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "It means lightly, carelessly, without regard for. I know why you're doing this; I'm not an idiot you know. I know you just want to know who he is. It's eating you up so you've started spouting words, not caring if they should actually mean something. You hope they'll get me to tell you what you're so dying to know." She stopped and stepped closer, watching him. She was suddenly amazed to discover he wasn't putting up a fight. _**Ok, that's too easy,**_ she thought. Looking closer, she saw his tiny smirk he seemed so hard to hide. _**He's manipulating me!**_ She narrowed her eyes. _**I'm not a manipulator…I can't come back. Fine…he'll just never know.**_

"Fine Dr. House," Romoly said and stepped away. "You'll just never know who that is." And, with that, she turned and stomped out of the apartment.

That was the LAST thing he wanted. Damn it; his plan had backfired. Rolling his eyes and cursing under his breath, he took off after her, catching up with her just as she opened her door. "Go away," she commanded as he stood behind her in her open door.

"No, not until you tell me what's going on."

"Why do I need to tell you?"

He couldn't answer for a moment…then realized for the first time her door was open. Looking up, he saw the other man, sitting in the living room with a woman who looked very much like Romoly, a reality television show blaring from in front of them. The couple watched the scene unfold before their very wide eyes, each wearing a tiny smirk on their faces as they looked from Romoly to House and back. The couple wordlessly begged SOMEONE to please tell them what was going on. But from Romoly's stiff stance and the sudden crossing of her arms, she let them know it wasn't going to be her.

The woman on the couch rolled her eyes and sighed. "Ok, fine. I'll introduce us…" She got up from the couch and moved toward them all the while taking in House's appearance like a cattle rancher evaluates a prize bull at a bovine auction. "I'm Angel Monroe and this is my husband, Bobby. I'm Rom's cousin. We're staying here for a few days. And you are…?"

Romoly watched the emotions play out on his face and almost laughed aloud. It was clear he didn't totally believe her but he had been SOOO sure it was her lover…

House didn't speak so Romoly made the introductions. Both Angel and Bobby's eyes widened from realization…this was the annoying neighbor that had Romoly's panties in a twist! Angel watched him further, her little smirk becoming positively huge. _**I see why…he's not only annoying and rude he's gorgeous to boot.**_

Despite all that, House was still confused… "If that's true, then why did it look like the both of you" House pointed from Romoly to Bobby "just took a shower at 8:00 at night? And why are you wearing what looks to be his shirt?"

Romoly looked at her family then back at House but refused to speak at first. House challenged her with his eyes then grinned when she didn't answer right away. "You CAN'T tell me, can you?"

She was starting to get mad again. "Of course I can tell you…I just don't know if I want to tell you."

House looked at Bobby. "Would YOU care to explain?" But Bobby shook his head. "And why not?" Bobby shrugged. "Are you some kind of an idiot or something? Do you even know how to talk?" House held up his cane. "Am I gonna have to beat it out of you?"

Romoly gasped. _**Maybe I really should say something now…**_ "No, Dr. House. You don't want to be arrested for assaulting a police officer." House threw her a confused look but she smiled. "Bobby is a detective with the Philadelphia Police department. They came here to spend a few days with me. Two hours ago, they called and said they had a flat tire driving in and needed my help. It was raining and Bobby and I got dirty. See?" Romoly pointed to the messy shoes and dirty coat that hung above a bed of newspapers to keep the carpet clean. "Bobby took a shower first but left all his clothes on the floor, like the lazy bum he is." Bobby rolled his eyes and Angel nudged him. "When I went to take a shower, I didn't realize, until afterwards, that Bobby had also taken my robe. Before I could say or do anything, you almost knocked down my door. I couldn't very well answer the door naked…"

"I'd have settled for the towel. That's my favorite."

Romoly ignored him. "…so I grabbed his shirt, which isn't that dirty," they both looked down at it… "and I answered the door. There: you happy?"

House was dumbfounded…and humiliated. What was he to do then?

He did one thing he was very good at: running away.

Turning on his heel, he walked out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. This left a bewildered Angel and Bobby just watching Romoly, who watched the closed door. Still thinking of what she read, Romoly sighed and walked to her La-Z-boy, plopping down.

"That's the same Dr. House, your obnoxious neighbor you've been telling us about?" Angel asked, wide-eyed and curious. Romoly nodded her head. "You're right…he is sexy in a very unkempt way. Oh honey, I hate to break it to you but he's really got it BAD."

Romoly refused to believe that…it was safer not to. "You can't be serious."

"Even I can see it and you know how dense I am," Bobby smirked.

Romoly playfully nodded. "And it's that denseness that makes me wonder how you became a detective with the Philadelphia Police in the first place." Bobby rolled his eyes but let it drop with a tiny smile.

Angel smiled. She loved and appreciated how her best friend and cousin always got along with her husband. "Honey, you've got to do something."

"Like what?"

"Kiss him…show him your ass…flash him your breasts…" Bobby said, smirking. Angel just rolled her eyes.

"Thanks buddy…you're a tremendous help."

"Rom, hon, I don't care what you do…just get over there and talk to him. Now." Angel urged.

Romoly nodded and sighed. "Fine." She got up and left the apartment.

*****


	27. Chapter 26

**Dedicated to my great friend Glennie. You'll know why in a minute Glennie! **

**Chapter 26**

POUND, POUND. "Greg?"

Nothing.

POUND, POUND. Romoly pounded his door harder. "Greg?"

No response.

Now she was really getting upset. "Greg, I'm getting really pissed off out here! I thought you'd never miss an opportunity to see me mad!"

Still nothing.

Romoly sighed. _**What a stubborn jackass,**_ she thought as she stomped back to her apartment. Finding Bobby, she asked, "Bobby, do you have a lock-picking kit?"

He shrugged but never took his eyes off a group of wrestlers on the television. Scooping a handful of Doritos from the bag on the coffee table, he asked, "Why do you need it?

"That stubborn jackass won't answer the door."

Bobby grinned and pulled his eyes from the television. "Absolutely. Follow me." Walking to the guest bedroom, he pulled out the police kit he always kept with him. He handed it to her. "And if you don't come back tonight, we'll understand. In fact," he looked out the door at his wife who was stirring something in a pot, "that would be awesome. We're trying to get pregnant and Angel wants to have sex at every place we stay, hoping that the new surroundings will, in her words, "Get the eggs a hoppin'"." Romoly scrunched her face in horror as she tried to block the mental picture. "Yeah, yeah, I know; it's absolutely ridiculous. But you know her…and I'll never pass up a chance for sex."

Romoly rolled her eyes and said, "Thank you…that was more than I needed to know."

Romoly started to leave when Bobby said, "And I'm going to completely ignore the fact that you actually know how to pick locks. My detective's back is turned as you are breaking and entering."

She winked and he chuckled as she went across the hall. Trying one more time and still getting no response, she sighed and quickly opened the kit, getting the door open in no time. Dropping the kit just inside the doorway, she flung the door wider. Not seeing anyone, she went through to the kitchen and stepped inside, getting a better look. Suddenly she heard a growled, "How did you get in here?"

Jumping from the force of his question, she turned to see him leaning against the kitchen doorway, a bottle of Glenlivet clutched in his hand. He'd removed his shirt and his low-slung jeans hugged his hips enticingly. Resolving to keep her gaze away from his body she focused on his eyes. They flashed with anger and a bit of embarrassment.

"I picked the lock."

House's eyebrows lifted at this. He was interested now. "Really? But isn't that against the law? Won't "Bobby" get upset and arrest you?"

She shrugged. "It's his kit; he gave it to me."

House couldn't help it; his mouth twitched up. "And how, pray tell, do you know how to pick locks?"

"I read about it."

He shook his head. "Figures. What do you want?"

She shrugged again. _**How does one go about doing this…whatever I'm supposed to be doing. What AM I supposed to be doing, anyway? Do I seduce him? Do I tell him about Clif? Do I paint his toenails and apply a mud mask? I'm completely clueless here…**_

House limped forward, ever so slowly…and she couldn't help watching the way his torso moved as he bobbed along. While his gait wasn't suave and his moves weren't smooth, she saw the power in his body as he moved…and couldn't help remembering the feel of those torso muscles as he moved above her. He stopped a few feet in front of her. "I'll ask again: what are you doing here?"

She continued to say nothing as she watched him creep closer still, her breath lodging in her throat. She remembered how it felt to be this close to House…and this underdressed. Her body quickened, her breathing deepened and her mind went completely blank. Noting the change in her demeanor the closer he got, he smirked. "What…are…you…doing…" House tried slowing his words, as if that would make her answer him.

She sighed. "Angel told me to do something; Bobby said I needed to flash my breasts."

House smirked. "You know, maybe this Bobby dude ain't so bad…"

Romoly smirked and shook her head. "Geez…" They eyed each other with an almost reluctant desire. She suddenly decided another tactic: she'd simply leave and do nothing. "It's been a long night and I'm very tired. I'll see you later, ok?"

House narrowed his eyes as she went to walk around him but he snaked an arm around her waist, gathering her to him. She leaned against him involuntarily, the heat of his chest electrifying her back. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back when his mouth caressed her ear, his next hot words sending shivers down her spine, the faint smell of malt liquor twitching her nose. "Do you want to go?"

Her voice cracked from the raw, naked feelings he stirred in her every time they were together. "Do you want me to go?"

His chin rubbed against the side of her neck, leaving her gasping. "What is this, 20 questions?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Tell me about Clif."

She stiffened and his arm involuntarily locked firmly around her, as if she'd slip from his grasp. "What a way to kill the mood."

"Tell me about Clif."

"What do you want to know?" She wrestled herself from his grasp and turned to face him. House set the scotch on the butcher's block and simply watched her with a look of growing anger. "What?" She asked, a bit frightened from his look.

"What do you mean, what?" House walked around her and sat on the leather sofa. "I want to know everything that's not in that book of yours. I want to know why you changed from a brainless, giggly girl into the smart but emotionally stunted woman you are now."

*****


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Her mouth dropped as she went to sit on the sofa beside him. "Who are you calling stunted? If my emotions are stunted then yours are nonexistent."

"Now, now. There's no need to resort to mud-slinging. I'm just calling it like I see it."

"Why do you want to know? What's in it for you?"

House rolled his eyes. "Are questions all you're capable of?"

Romoly's eyes sparkled as she grinned. "Do you have a problem with that?"

House frustratingly face-palmed and sat back against one arm of the sofa. He began to steadily thump his cane on the floor. "Has anyone ever told you what a pain in the a you are?"

She grinned wider and sat back against the opposite arm, careful to cover herself. She just knew he'd try anything to look up her shirt. "Not lately but I have a feeling you'll never pass up the opportunity to tell me."

"Damn straight."

She watched him carefully, her eyes taking in every nuance of his face: from his beautiful, clear skin to his multi-colored graying beard to his amazing, sparkling bright blue eyes. "Ok, I'll make you a deal," she began. Still thumping his cane, he met her gaze with a raised eyebrow. "I tell you about Clif if you tell me about your leg."

They eyed each other in a tug-of-war of intentions. After a few moments, House finally sighed and let go of the rope. "Fine. But it won't be worth your while; I'm sure your story is much better than mine."

"I don't doubt it. Well, let's see now: it was early 2003…"

"February, to be exact," House added, eyeing her critically.

"Wow…it's almost like you were there…which means you already know everything, which means…"

"Just shut up and continue."

She sighed and slowly let her smile fade. Finding a spot above his shoulder to stare at, she began. "In February of 2003, I was living in New York City and working at the Mid-Manhattan branch of the Public Library as the head librarian. Now that was an amazing job: I met so many new people; I saw things I never saw before. All in all, I loved that job. That February we were working on the annual New York City Public Library Fundraiser, a month-long event that had me working 18 hour days, 6 days a week. It was very difficult but the work was fun and the days flew by.

It was my responsibility to oversee the "acts", so to speak. But that year was a rather dry year for celebrities and authors who could attend the fundraiser. Every avenue I tried was a dead end…until Roger, our circulation manager, really came through for us. He told us that he was friends with Clifton James, the world-renowned mystery author. They were college roommates." Romoly looked at House who seemed enthralled. "He talked Clifton into a book signing. Well, naturally, we were ecstatic; Clifton James was the A-Rod of the literary world at that time."

House smiled. "You know who A-Rod is??"

Romoly nodded her head. "Of course I know who A-Rod is: Alex Rodriguez, Third Baseman for the Yankees. You don't live in New York and not at know who A-Rod is, though I prefer the White Sox."

"Really?!" House was dumbfounded. "Why??"

"Because I'm from Chicago."

"Wow…you're just full of surprises."

"How is that a surprise? I grew up in Chicago, went to the University of Illinois and my first position was in the Chicago Public Library system. I then received a tremendous opportunity to work for the NYC Public Library system in 2000 and I took it." Romoly looked down and began fiddling with the hem of the shirt. "That February, Roger arranged everything with Clifton and I met him on the night of the book signing. We were swamped but I had a few minutes to chat with Clif. He absolutely blew me away: the guy was smart, articulate, sexy as hell." Romoly looked at House, her eyes roaming his fantastic features. "You remind me of him in many ways."

Now House was a bit scared, since he knew how the story ended. "Is that good or bad?"

Romoly smiled. "I don't know yet…we'll see." She paused as she let that familiar nostalgic haze fill her brain. "Clif and I hit it off right away. His brain worked a mile a minute and he was so good at his craft."

"What did he look like?"

Now Romoly grinned widely. "Why?" She saw he wasn't going to answer so she grinned wider. She continued as her senses became more attuned to his moods. Unfortunately for him, she could read him like a book. After all, wasn't that her specialty? "Let's see: tall, about 6'4"; blond hair; green eyes; lanky but not skinny; great a. VERY well endowed. When I met him I was about 31 and he was 45." Romoly almost laughed aloud when she saw him squirming, running his hand along his chest. _**He feels inadequate! Like he has anything to worry about,**_ she reluctantly told herself.

"Ok, ok. I get it. He was hot. Move along."

"But you don't get it: he wasn't just hot…he was the sexiest thing I'd ever laid eyes on. And that said a lot about him. It was New York City, after all."

"Then why would he want you?" House was certainly feeling inadequate and fighting back with insults was all he had.

Romoly didn't know how to take that so she wasn't going to show him how she MAY have felt. "You know, I asked myself the same thing when he called me a week later to ask me out. I mean, here was this famous and gorgeous writer. What would he want with a little ole librarian like myself? But it was a great date and he was extremely romantic. I found out he was a widower and his wife died of cancer about 2 years before we met. After that, we went on a few dates before becoming serious. And within six months of dating we moved in together, in his apartment in the Village."

House was genuinely surprised; she led a surprisingly exciting life. But it wasn't the good exciting he was interested in…he wanted to know when things got bad. "Ok, I get it: the guy was a perfect god who gave you the best sex of your life and everything was kitten tails and rainbows between you two. When did it go bad?"

"Wow. You just made good sound like a bad thing. What's wrong with being happy?"

"Because it inevitably ends. What's the point of being happy when you just know it's going to end anyway?"

Now Romoly pitied him…and understood him a great deal more. "Because, as a human race, we're suckers. We typically look for the easy and feel-good in everything. Granted, the easy is very difficult to find but there's just enough in the world to dull the pain the usual hardships of our lives leave us in. I'm not addicted to pain, Greg. I don't need to hurt to feel." She paused. "About 2½ years into our relationship, I was getting antsy; I wanted to get married but he kept hemming and hawing, never giving me a straight answer. He was always good about brushing off my questions and never getting upset with me…but one day in August, 2005, changed our entire relationship."

*****


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

House watched her critically. "And that's when he took up plate throwing, right??

Romoly nodded. "I didn't know what to think. He'd never ONCE done anything so violent and angry. Usually he gave me the silent treatment when he was angry. Clifton Arthur James was very good at the silent treatment. It used to drive me insane and I'd do whatever needed to be done to resolve the situation quickly so he'd talk to me."

"ARTHUR?!?!?" House chuckled, which turned into a full-blown laugh when she saw her face crack a smile. "His middle name was ARTHUR??"

Romoly broke and started giggling, which soon turned into a cackle. House watched the sudden show of emotion with great interest. This woman, whom he accused just mere moments ago of being devoid of emotion, had completely run the gambit of emotions in those said moments. It was phenomenal…and House realized he truly loved watching her laugh.

She nodded, still cackling. "He…" she held up a hand, as if to say 'give me a moment'. This, unfortunately, just got her snorting as she choked out each word, "…hated…" SNORT. "…that…" SNORT, SNORT. "…name…"

House was blown away by the sheer force of her laughter; it was clear she hadn't laughed like that in a long, long time. It was also clear she'd gone through so much that she COULDN'T laugh about that she was very long overdue for it. So he chose to shut up and not say a word. House laughed even harder at her red face and how she started slapping her leg. _**Wow…she's really enjoying that. When was the last time **__**I**__** laughed like that?**_ His mind froze when he realized he probably hadn't, at least not in his adulthood.

Romoly was calming down, taking snorting breaths to try and calm herself. "Wow…that felt really good. I haven't laughed like that in a long time…way too long." She wiped tears from her eyes. "Now, where was I?"

"Good King Arthur the Stud was chucking plates at your head."

She snorted but resolved to keep it together; if she didn't she'd never finish the story. "The weird thing about that incident was that he had absolutely no recollection of even getting upset with me; he said it was like he simply blanked out. I asked him if he'd that had ever happened before and he said every once in awhile. I advised him that counseling might be a good course of action but he laughed that off, like he laughed off everything that could've possibly been important. The guy never took anything seriously…I'm guessing it was something he learned while his wife was dying of pancreatic cancer. Anyway, Clif said, "Shrinks are for sissies who can't handle life. And do I look like a sissy?" I tried several times but you can't help someone who won't help themselves. I had to just let it go.

As time went on, it began to seem more and more like an isolated incident and the event itself faded…yet the feelings and concerns remained there, as if to remind me this really might not have been an isolated incident. But I simply wasn't seeing any signs of reoccurrence." Romoly stopped and took a deep breath. Rubbing her face with her hands she turned her attention to House who hadn't even flinched.

"Six months later, he got angry again. And it was over nothing, absolutely nothing. We'd been talking about something so mundane that, to this day, I can't even remember what it was about, when he suddenly started yelling at me about some party we'd gone to 3 months prior. He claimed I had supposedly said something that was 'Dumbass' (his words). I had no recollection of what was said; I'd barely recalled even going to a party. Somehow he'd dredged up SOMETHING from the recesses of his brain and threw it back at me." She paused then got up. Pacing the floor she began pulling her hair up, running her fingers through the snagged locks. Romoly was so engaged in her hair antics she failed to notice how House was watching the shirt slip higher, higher, higher still, revealing more and more of her trim thighs. He swallowed and remained entranced, watching the long, lithe limbs as they paced his floor. Despite the serious subject matter at hand, he was still a man…a man who had yet to sleep with the woman he desired most in the world. He was gonna look whenever he could.

Romoly walked to the piano and, finding a rubber band atop a stack of newspapers, grabbed it and pulled her hair up. She then began pacing the living room again. "But you want to know the really scary part? He was like two completely different people, almost like Jekyll and Hyde. While that second occasion hadn't been violent it did become the catalyst, the snowball that gathered speed…and more snow…as it rolled down the mountain. From then on, the occurrences became more and more frequent…and more and more violent. After three months it had became a daily part of life. I was walking on eggshells; I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to talk to him, look at him; I had no idea when he'd turn. I had no idea of how to live. I completely ceased being the Romoly of only the year before and became this one: emotionally introverted and logical, analyzing before diving in. Do you realize it takes me half an hour to pick an ice cream flavor because I start wondering, 'Oh, do I REALLY want that flavor?? If I bought this one, would I forgive myself if I was still craving another flavor?'" She stopped and looked at House. "I used to be so spontaneous. We'd do almost anything at the drop of a hat. Like the time we flew to Vegas because we woke up, one Friday morning and Clif rolled over and asked, "Wanna got to Vegas?". That was one of the best trips I'd ever taken. And we lived like that. It was the best." She sighed. "But when he began turning, I had to cope with living those last months. And becoming this person…" she dragged her hand down her body to indicate the present Romoly, "…was the only way I knew how to survive."

House chose this time to interrupt. "Then why in God's name did you stay with him? Why didn't you leave when it first happened?"

"Because I knew, all along, that that behavior wasn't CLIF. The Clif I knew never did anything remotely similar to that. He was kind, good, a real gentleman. He was the only man in my life that had ever opened doors for me; he was the only man who would sit and listen to my problems. He actually cared…and I had two and a half years of learning who he was. I KNEW what was happening wasn't right…that he needed to seek help…but he wouldn't. During these horrible last months, in between the fights and the yelling and the throwing of objects and the hitting, he was the Clif I knew and was mad about: he opened the doors; he made breakfast; he still bought me flowers every week, a habit he began on our first date and continued, even into the week he died. How could I leave that, especially when I knew HE was still there? I had to do what I could to make him see, to fully bring the Clif I knew and love back to me. But he continued refusing help. It was this refusal for help that lead to…that…morning…"

Romoly's voice came out stilted and choked with emotion as she slowly walked to the window and looked out, catching a glimpse of the last of the rain shimmer across the earth like a blanket of silver, its brilliance only enhanced by the half-moon poking its way through the newly-parted clouds. House wordlessly watched the combination of streetlight and moonlight as it elucidated her face, creating a halo effect that caught his breath. She was truly beautiful with the soft light radiating the unshed tears in her extraordinary eyes.

She turned to look at him. "It's always been ironic to me that I was there with him when this all started that first day in the kitchen. And I was with him with it all ended, that day on the balcony of that hotel, by the hands of the police sniper…"

*****


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

She stopped talking, and, still watching him, tilted her head to study him. "Have you read any of Clif's books?" House nodded. "Then you know how psychologically challenging and in-depth they tend to be." House nodded once again. Romoly walked back to the sofa and sat down, her eyes intently watching him. "Whenever Clif wrote, I was never privy to any details; I was never allowed inside his study when he worked; and he'd keep the manuscript password protected on his computer. That was how he was: incredibly secretive about his writing process. And I was fine with that: I understood that was how he needed to work and I appreciated it. A little bothered by his paranoia but nonetheless I simply chocked it up to the 'quirk of the artiste'.

I never knew what he was writing until he sent the final draft to the publishers, when he'd let me read his working manuscript. It was full of his notes and dates of revisions and entries. He had a very different writing style in that he would date everything he did, whether it be the revisions or the writing of entire pages. One day I asked him about it and he said he helped him keep his timeline of creativity straight." Romoly paused for a breath and simply watched House who couldn't take his eyes from her. He didn't know where this was leading but it was very interesting nonetheless.

"Clif may've had very intense, paranoid writing habits but he was very good. These writing habits helped him write very quickly: in the over three years we were together, he wrote three books, all bestsellers. And it was these results that kept me from complaining or criticizing his paranoid actions. But what I hadn't realized was he'd been writing a fourth, a very, very different novel he'd started working on about two years into our relationship. It was very secret…and helped to explain why he died. But I'll get to that later."

Romoly stopped and asked, "You got anything to drink around here?"

"Check in the fridge; I don't know what's in there. I don't go in there very often."

Romoly rolled her eyes and stood. She moved towards the fridge but House stopped her with a hand looped around her upper thigh. Romoly's breath suddenly hitched at the feel of his rough hand on her most sensitive of skin, the rough tips sending tiny electrical shocks to her brain and numbing her cerebral cortex. Unfortunately, since the cerebral cortex controls language, her speech would've been very garbled if she could've talked. She looked down to find him watching his fingers caressing, slowly inching higher, underneath the shirt. Gently setting a hand on his head, she ran her fingers slowly through the locks, massaging his scalp. He moaned and pulled her to him, setting her on his good leg, his hand still between her legs. His eyes evaluated her face, stopping at her mouth. "You are such a tease."

That cleared her cortex as Romoly was started by such a declaration but anxious to hear what he meant nonetheless. "Huh?"

He moved his hand and inched it up, touching each button carefully. "Walking around in this shirt, acting as if I wouldn't notice. I think you're trying to kill me."

Romoly stiffened and stood up. "Well, I guess it would seem you'd be the second man I've supposedly sent to an early grave." She walked to the kitchen and threw open the fridge, pulling out a Dr. Pepper. She was upset about what she had to tell him; there had been a reason she'd been avoiding saying anything: she didn't want to relive it because she still felt guilty. It wasn't until she felt House's warm chest against her back that she realized he'd followed her into the kitchen.

"Just tell me what happened."

She took a huge slurp from the soda can and shook her head, swallowing. "No, I can't talk about it." Romoly stiffened as she felt his arms go around her from behind and the weight of his head as he set his chin on her shoulder. She involuntarily sighed and closed her eyes, almost losing it when she felt his breath against her neck and soft, gruff voice say, "We had a deal. You can't back out now."

"Oh really? Who says?"

House rubbed his torso against her butt, telling her who was calling the shots. She gasped. "Ok, ok…I get it. Taskmaster." House grinned against her ear, nipping the underside of it. She moaned as his fingertips grazed her clavicle, dipping his fingertips underneath the shirt.

Still leaning against him, she found a spot to look at, studying how surprisingly clean his kitchen was, considering whom he was. She had to take her mind off his touching; otherwise she wouldn't have been able to finish. "The morning of the day he died, I was working, as usual, and he called me at the library. By this time, and not willingly I will add, I had gone to stay with friends. The last beating he'd given me was severe enough to tell me that I really did need to leave that situation, no matter how much I wanted to stay. When he called that last time I hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks and, believe it or not, I did miss him. Which was why I took his call; I needed to hear his voice, to know he was ok despite everything he'd done to me. This need to talk to him didn't mean I was going to be lenient on him, though: I was smart enough to know that, if any communication were to occur between us, it wasn't to be just between the two of us. I would've needed people around me or maybe even a chaperone.

When he suggested we meet, I was very cautious. I didn't want to arouse suspicion in him by suggesting a chaperone of sorts. If he knew I didn't trust him he'd never talk rationally to me. That was something I couldn't' afford. But he suggested we meet at one of our favorite restaurants, located in a rather swanky hotel, so I felt a bit more comfortable. It was New York City; nothing is ever not busy in New York City, and I knew we'd be surrounded by plenty of other people. That felt pretty safe to me."

She paused and turned her head to look at him, taking in his crystalline blue eyes and beard. Studying how the dim light from the fixtures above illuminated the every line and almost every whisker on his face, she stopped her perusal at his mouth. She stared at his mouth a few moments before continuing: "We had lunch. It was very stilted and awkward for me at first; I mean, how do you comfortably talk with the antagonist of the situation you were currently in? But Clif at lunch that day was the Clif I knew and loved. During those brief moments, we had what we always had: respect; devotion and love. It was like old times. And I got suckered into the essence that was always Clif." She paused and looked away from House then reluctantly disentangled herself from his embrace and moved to a counter across from House, easily hoisting herself onto the counter space.

She looked at him watching her as she dangled her legs over the edge, careful to keep them locked together. She didn't want to give him any ideas. "Over dessert he asked, 'Wanna get a room upstairs?' I balked at first; I knew it probably wasn't a good idea…but oh how I missed him. And, to make a long story short, we went upstairs. I guess those couple weeks away had been enough to make him miss me as well and we literally had the best sex we'd ever had. It was quite extraordinary." House suddenly began making laps around the butcher-block table that sat in the middle of the kitchen, angrily stabbing the ground with each caned step. Romoly smiled: she knew he was jealous and she loved watching him get upset. Either that or he was mad she'd gone upstairs with Clif; didn't matter either way. It was still fun watching him squirm.

"After we'd finished, I'd finally come to my senses and realized what kind of danger I might've put myself in. I was in the most vulnerable position I could've put myself and I needed to get out of there. I quickly got up and began getting dressed. Clif watched as I dressed, confused at my sudden need to leave. Though getting up to get dressed himself, he wasn't happy about it. And this was something else I'd noticed: he was getting visually upset. He never got upset externally, even when he raged out. His rages were usually so sudden they didn't have time to build. Remember, he was the silent treatment kind of guy, so this was another trick he pulled on me. I suddenly knew I had to get out of there and, dressing as quickly as I could, kept an eye on Clif. Watching him tuck in his shirt, he suddenly stopped and asked, 'Do you really have to go back?' Of course I told him I did; I had to go back to work.

'No,' he said. 'You're going back to see HIM.' By this time I was really confused; there was never another 'him'. It'd always been Clif. I told him that I didn't know what he was talking about; it had always been him. He called me a liar and began yelling that he knew about my 'other lover' and that he was going to find him and 'make him pay'." Romoly sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. Reliving all of this just made her tired...and incredibly stupid. Listening to herself describe the situation made her feel like the dumbest woman on the planet; she knew that going upstairs with him was bad news but she couldn't have helped herself; she still loved the guy more than anything, no matter what he'd done to her.

"By this time I'd completely drained myself of all emotion and tried to deal with him on a neutral plane. But that didn't seem to work either. He became even more irrational. And that's when the beatings began." Romoly looked at her feet, tears welling in her eyes. It was so painful to relive; so much so that House was the first person, outside of the police, very close friends, and family she'd shared any of this with. She reluctantly continued, choking as she went along. "It wasn't just a hit with his hand; Greg, this man had such a fury I'd never seen in anyone. He just went on and on, hitting me and screaming such irrational things that I knew something else was going on. To this day I believe that man was possessed. I tried to get away but he kept grabbing me, telling me that I was never going to leave him and that we were meant to be together. He just wouldn't stop." The flood gates opened and Romoly burst into tears, dropping her face into her hands as wave after violent wave of tears poured down her cheeks.

House, not knowing what to do since he wasn't a comforter by any means, stepped closer and stood by her but he didn't touch her; what was he supposed to do? _**The woman did it to herself**_. But he knew he didn't really believe that; he was just so mad she was an idiot and put herself into that situation. "So, the jerk was wailing on you pretty bad and was basically holding you hostage. When do we get to the police snipers?"

For whatever reason, Romoly laughed at this; it wasn't very funny…in fact it was as far from funny as one could get…but it was so very House. And, without even realizing it, it was exactly what she needed. "I'm getting there, I'm getting there…"

*****


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Romoly knew she'd have to dredge up feelings and memories she'd long vowed to bury in order to tell this narrative the way it needed to be told: completely and accurately. So, closing her eyes, she took herself back to that day, that hotel room. As suddenly as a person could turn on a light switch, the feelings and visions of that day, not so long before, hit her like a ton of bricks. It just went to further prove that she could never be completely rid of that horrible time of her life. Meanwhile House could only watch, with growing concern, as she held her hands up, whimpering and pleading for her life.

It was as if she was reliving the action, only this time in her mind: the feel of her lover's hand slapping across her cheek, stinging her cheek as much as it stung her heart; the throbbing of her scalp as he yanked her by the hair and hurled her across the room and the disorientation of the trip, watching objects, and her life, pass before her eyes; the sharp CRASHING sound as she hit the hotel's glass lamp, then the wall, shattering the lamp into many, many tiny shards and landing in a painful heap by the bed. Her eyes remained closed as her whimpering intensified, her hands flailing in a wild and frantic defensive mode. "No Clif…stop…AGGHHHH!" She suddenly screamed and the blood-curdling sound of it told House it was enough; time to stop the memories.

Stepping in front of her, he gently took her shoulders in his lean hands and shook her. "Romoly…Romoly. Stop."

Not realizing the person shaking her was House and not Clif, she fought back, pounding his chest and slapping his neck and face. "NOOO! Clif, no more! Please!" He took her hands in an effort to stop her but she continued fighting back. Desperate, he did the only thing he could think of: moving closer, he gently kissed her. It was a kiss of comfort, one not intended for passion. She immediately calmed and, recognizing the grading roughness of his lips, sighed and instantly intensified the contact. He moaned, released her hands, cradled her tear-stained face in his hands and opened his mouth to hers to take the tongue she offered him. He kissed her until she was calm; he kissed her until her tears dried; he kissed her until she felt safe; he kissed her until he could bring himself to finally admit how much he truly needed her. Oh, and how she'd broken that stereotypical "librarianism" theory once and for all.

Finally moving apart to take a breath break, he released her lips and stepped back a bit to get a good look at her. She opened her eyes and looked at him then gasped as the red marks she made on his neck and face. Sniffling, she carefully caressed them, soothing them with her fingers. "Oh Greg, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean…"

House didn't want to talk about feelings; he didn't want to discuss what she did (he'd basically forgotten about it); he just wanted her to finish the story. At that moment he didn't care about anything else. "Forget it. Tell me what happened."

"He was holding me hostage," she sniffled, wiping her nose with the shirt sleeve. "Not to the point that he tied me down or held a weapon to me but I couldn't leave because every time I'd even thought about leaving the guy would make it very clear I wasn't leaving. It was odd…it was like the guy could read my mind or something.

And his yelling never stopped; it just became more intense. It didn't take long for someone to call hotel management, who in turn began ringing to room to get us to stop. You can only imagine what this did to the volatile Clif; it was driving him out of his gourd. The longer, and the more frequently, the phone rang the louder and more insane he got. Then the paranoia set in; it was actually a blessing in disguise of sorts because he zoned me out and began pacing in front of the door, talking to himself. I'd never seen him do anything that remotely odd before. He was mumbling, _'How they'd come and get me'_, meaning Clif, and _'I can't let her go…she'll just go tell them'_. I had no idea what he was saying. It made absolutely no sense. After just a few tries by management to ring us, the pounding on the door began. That only ruffled his feathers more, to the point where he ran to the door and said, _'Don't even try getting in; I have a hostage!'_. He grabbed a chair and dragged it to the door, wedging it underneath so that, even if they had a key, they wouldn't have been able to get in.

By then I'd assumed that hotel management had called the police but I wouldn't have known it; Clif definitely wasn't answering the phone at this point or taking any requests to talk in person yet. He wasn't even talking to me, despite all my pleas. I kept saying, over and over, _'You don't need to do this'_ and _'We can work this out'_ but the guy had stopped listening, still mumbling about things I had no clue about. And finally I just gave up; I knew I couldn't reason with him; a guy in that condition was a person you don't reason with because you CAN'T. So I began looking for a way out as I tried to keep his brain occupied with questions about anything, whatever it took to stall him from what he could've possibly done."

Romoly paused and thought for a moment, her eyes dry from her tears and her mind working. "At one point I had to go to the bathroom, at which he agreed without thinking. When I got there I found my purse, having forgotten I'd left it in the bathroom when we first arrived. My cell phone was in there. I dialed while trying not to make any noise and spoke with the dispatcher, who gave me to the officer handling our situation. I told him what was happening and he wanted me to stay on the line but I told him that he didn't know the man they were dealing with; **I** didn't even know the man they were dealing with. I told him he'd beaten me pretty badly and that I feared for us both; that if they didn't do something he was going to either kill me, himself or the both of us. Suddenly Clif started beating down the door, wondering why it took so long. I asked for a minute but that got him even more upset. I quickly told the police to do something, and that I'd leave the phone on, in my pocket, so they could hear everything going on. I slipped the phone in my pocket and opened the door to find Clif frowning suspiciously at me. _'What took you so long?'_I knew I had to play it cool; I couldn't around his suspicion. _'I'm sorry; I was having a little trouble.' _I could see he was evaluating me; he didn't quite believe me but he didn't look ready to distrust me yet. And that's when I knew he was struggling with something more powerful than he was; it was taking over his body. But, like the optimistic female I was, I was still hoping I could get through to him; I should've thought that him holding me hostage was the last straw. There were no second chances and my life truly was in danger." Romoly shivered with the thought then stopped and hopped off the counter to grab her soda. Quenching her parched throat, she set the can down and moved her hands to her hair, removing the rubber band and the rat's nest sprang free. She moaned as she couldn't run her fingers through it. "I must look a fright. You got a comb or something?"

House was still trying to process what she'd been telling him and to go from hostage situation to personal hygiene was more than he could take at the moment. He was on the edge of his seat…figuratively speaking of course. "Do I look like I own a comb? And would you stop doing this: interrupting, right in the middle of the action, just when the story is getting good? It's really annoying."

"Well, exccuuuussse me. Do you want to tell this?" Romoly walked out of the kitchen and sat in her spot on the sofa again; the kitchen counter was getting too hard on her. House followed closely behind and resumed his position on the other end of the sofa. "Shortly after my phone call, the police knocked on the door requesting Clif speak with them. That was a joke; he wasn't about to talk to the police, except to say, _'I've got a hostage and I will kill her.'_ He didn't say anything else but apparently the police took it seriously; 15 minutes later we heard the distinctive whirring of chopper blades. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the open balcony doors. We were on the 10th floor, in the middle of Manhattan's high rise jungle; there were hotels and office buildings everywhere. I could see into the surrounding buildings. Clif turned to me and shouted, _'Give me your cell phone.'_ Somehow he knew I'd talked on the phone when I was in the bathroom.

I was going to bluff him…at first. But when the heated, menacing look that usually entered his eyes before each beating began forming on his face, I knew I had to give it to him, if only to save myself. He took it and looked at it; he sneered when he saw it was still on. Putting it up to his ear, he said, _Hello New York police. This is Clifton James. We're on the balcony and I will kill her. Do you want me to do that?'_ He paused as he listened to the person on the other end. _'But I don't care about her; she betrayed me. She cheated on me and ratted me out to the police about my informants; she got Big Lou killed.'_ And by then I was completely confused; I had no idea what he was talking about. At first I thought he was spouting out gibberish…until it finally dawned on me." Romoly looked at House. "'Big Lou' was a recurring character in his novels, a Mob informant helping the main character, a detective. He was killed off in the last book Clif published."

"Wait a minute," House asked, leaning over the sofa to look at Romoly. This was much, much better than what he thought; House simply thought it was a case of police sniper shooting a guy. He had no idea how crazy Clif had really become. House was dumbfounded; after all, you couldn't make this stuff up, even if you tried. "He thought, what, that you were a character in his book?"

Romoly nodded. "But not JUST that: it wasn't a matter of simply Clif thinking I was a character; he'd become so immersed in what he was writing that he thought HE was Richard Tremble, the detective and main character; that I was Jane, his wife; and this 'other lover' he before claimed I had? It had to have been Gustav, Jane's boyfriend that Richard only discovered in this latest book."

But House was confused. "How crazy do you have to be to think like that?"

Romoly sighed and rubbed her face. "Apparently you have to have an initially undiagnosed, mild form of paranoid schizophrenia that, without treatment because you're both stubborn and oblivious to your condition, becomes dramatically worse. Of course, I didn't discover this until after he died; too little too late. Do you remember that fourth novel I told you about, the one that he was working on in secret?" House nodded. "It would seem this novel helped push him over the edge."

*****


	32. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

"How can a novel drive him to do what he did?"

"Now who's interrupting? I thought you wanted to hear this."

House rolled his eyes but nodded. "Fine. Continue."

She smiled for the first time in quite awhile. "So, we were standing on the balcony, the world in chaos below us, and I knew how convinced Clif was of my guilt; it was written all over his face. He truly did see me as the 'Betrayer' who deserved to be executed for what she did, with him as executioner. Clif still held the phone in his hand as he shouted, _'I'm gonna do it; I'm gonna kill her. She deserves nothing but what she's about to get; no wife of mine will two-time me.'_ And he grabbed my arm tighter, dragging me to the railing. I knew that, in his insane condition, I couldn't fight him off. So I started screaming my head off, so loud I knew the people below could hear us.

'_Shut up!'_ he yelled as he shook me like a rag doll. I was tired; weak from the pain of the beatings I'd sustained; and my spirit was broken. To be honest, rag doll was the best description; I didn't have the energy or the willpower to fight back." She paused and looked at her hands. "And I was scared. In fact, I'd never, and have never, been as scared as I was at that moment. Believe me, I did want to live, more than anything…but, at the same time, I felt that if he'd taken my life that day I would've almost been grateful." She made a swooping hand gesture, as if to indicate the space around her. "At least I wouldn't have had to deal with the aftermath." Romoly stopped and looked House square in the eye, where he found a completely broken, honest…and tired…woman. He could see her need for rest; not just physical but emotionally and psychologically. For once, House realized he'd met a woman who'd endured as much pain as he had. And it was this realization that strengthened the connection he'd already begun to feel with her from the moment he read her diary. He pulled himself out of his head; she was speaking again.

"Meanwhile the officer on the phone was screaming, trying to calm him down so they could talk. Clif wasn't about to talk; he was all action. And that's when I was suddenly jerked forward and made to lean over the balcony railing. _'See this, Jane?'_ Yep…" she nodded when she saw the bewildered look on House's face. "He was calling me 'Jane'. _'See this?????'_ He was pushing my head down, forcing me to look at the people on the street below, whose numbers had been rapidly increasing. We were quite the show for 2:00 on a Wednesday afternoon.

'_See them?'_ He kept repeating until I'd whimpered my affirmation, all the while hoping he would just get it over with. _'They are here for you…they've come to watch you…fall down, down. They want to see you fly. Do you have any last words?'_ And…" Romoly's words came out chokingly as she swallowed the next round of tears, hoping they would go away…but they didn't. With each attempt to force them back, her voice would grow weaker, hoarser. She was telling herself she needed to be strong; if not for vanity's sake, at least for herself. But it was Clif's sadistic laughter that she could hear. At the time she remembered thinking she never knew him capable of it.

Then again, she never knew him capable of what he was doing to her and yet there he was, doing the unthinkable.

"…and he was laughing…" Romoly shut her eyes as she struggled to block the memory of the ghastly sound… "…the evil…sadistic…laughter…" she squeezed her eyes tighter, hoping that would work but nothing seemed to stop it as it continued echoing through her entire body… "…was something I'd never imagined hearing from anyone, especially not him." Romoly's face contorted with angry confusion as she wondered why her life took that path…and why Clif's ended the way it did. She sniffed, opened her eyes and caught a new breath of air. "Sadly for Clif, the officer on the other end of the phone heard his words. It was by a miracle that, amongst the ruckus, I heard that officer's voice give the order: _'When you've got a shot, take it.'_ I'd seen enough movies and read enough books to know what that meant; I simply prayed they'd do it quick, cleanly and as soon as possible.

'_What are your last words?'_ Clif asked again and pushed me further, so much so I was pinned between him and the railing, my feet dangling beneath me, my head hanging upside down over the railing. I was getting nauseous; my head was spinning; I remember thinking I could faint, throw-up or fall at any moment. Then, without warning there was a POP: it was very similar to the sound of a car backfiring, its loud explosion still bouncing off the Manhattan high rises. Suddenly the pressure holding me to the railing was relieved and I was able to slump to the floor of the balcony. After a few disorientating moments, I looked around and saw the entry wound and his lifeless body. It was over. After that I didn't do anything; I'd become numb." Romoly stopped the story there, her look beyond House as she hugged her arms around her chest as if to re-cover herself after that revealing expose. She didn't want to talk about it anymore; she was too emotionally tired to comprehend what was happening. The numbness had taken over, which gave the conversation its seemingly unimportance; that was hardly the case.

For several moments both were silent as Romoly stared anywhere but at House; she didn't want to see his face and any possible disappointment there could've been for her written on it. She suddenly caught movement out of the corner of her eye and looked over to see House moving closer, shuffling his lankiness across the smooth leather sofa.

"What are you doing?"

"I've heard enough…" he murmured as his hand went up her leg, over the shirt and settled on her waist. He inched her closer to him but still left air between them; it was still too far away for both of them.

Truth was he was about to explode; he needed her, if only to show in the only way a non-comforting jerk could, how much he felt for her situation.

Finding her voice but pulling away, she murmured, "I've just poured out the most intimate details of the most horrific day of my life and you just want sex?"

He pulled her back to him. "I always want sex," he whispered against her ear, his hot breath teasing her spine. "But you really need to relax. You can tell me the rest of the story later." House kissed his way down her jaw and neck to her clavicle; Romoly was barely aware of his fingers working the buttons of the shirt, unbuttoning as he went down. She suddenly decided it was pretty stupid to fight him, especially with the feelings he was zapping through her. Her breath caught as his long, lean fingers nimbly removed each button from its slip, intentionally brushing his feather-light touches against the skin underneath. His mouth returned to her neck and slowly nibbled, stealing more oxygen from her lungs than she would've preferred. In no time the shirt was completely unbuttoned which gave him a very tantalizing view from neck to hips. She kept it hanging from her shoulders, not doing a lot of cover her breasts. He slid a hand to her left breast, measuring the rather substantial mass and smiling when he felt the hard nub against his palm.

"Doctor…Houuu…" she couldn't finish his name as his stubbly lips leaned down to nibble on the underside where breast met chest.

"Greg," he breathed and she choked at how expertly his breath seemed caressed her goose-pimply flesh; when his tongue followed suit, lapping up the softness of her firm breast she almost went into cardiac arrest.

"Oh…" Romoly moaned as she pressed closer, suddenly feeling his intent towards her. Her breathing was erratic and deep; her overheating body throbbed; and her lips tingled for his. He didn't hesitate as he slid his fingers down her chest and around her waist, bringing her completely to him. Pushing him away and against the back of the sofa, she straddled him, standing on her knees and rhythmically grinding her warm core against his naked chest, marking her territory. He moaned, his fingertips spanning her small waist.

"Make me forget Greg…" she murmured as she removed the infernal shirt, her hands moving along his chest as she rocked. "…make me forget everything that happened before you…"

*****

Soon they lay back on the sofa to resume what was interrupted in the library. House's tongue flickered around her ear, tickling and teasing her. A sudden sense of déjà vu took over and both were rather hesitant to continue.

At first.

"Do you have any roomies?" Romoly asked quietly, her fingers sliding through his hair. She knew the answer; she just wanted to make sure.

He lifted his head and shook it. "Why? Wanna make this a threesome?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not…I just wanted to make sure we aren't interrupted."

He smiled and nodded. "Ahh…" He bent his head and went back to nibbling, sending chills down her spine. "We won't…" he paused and smiled against her soft skin. "Let's EXPLORE, shall we?"

"Huh?" she asked, confused by his suggestion.

"Sure: EXPLORE: The sexual response cycle. **EX**citement…" he ran his hands lightly over her breasts and smiled at her gasp; "…**PL**ateau…" he kissed down to her flat stomach, swirling his tongue in her belly button, his hands holding her hips in place as they writhed with his ministrations; "…**O**rgasmic…and **RE**solution." He repositioned himself as she whimpered. She herself was surprised at her reaction to him.

"Oh, I like that pneumonic…" her voice trailed off and her mouth fell open in gasps as she felt his urgency mixed with his tongue on the underside of her jaw. "I think it almost tops the Dewey Decimal System."

"Not quite; nobody says sexy like Dewey does. Now shut up," he commanded hoarsely as his hips thrust forward. Her eyes widened with a yelp; her gasps and moans increasing dramatically despite the haze that consumed her. She was quickly taken away, to a place she hadn't been to in oh so very long.

And how she missed that place, so very much. She knew she didn't want to go with just anyone; it had to be him. Now, to convince him of this…

Somewhere in that haze she heard, "Open your eyes; I want to watch." But she couldn't; the feelings were too overpowering. She shook her head as the earth suddenly and violently moved; her only coherent thought was how extraordinary he had to have been to have moved heaven to meet the earth, just for her…

Maybe this guy wasn't so bad, after all. He just takes some getting used to…

*****


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

"Mmm…" Romoly moaned as she opened her eyes, fighting to focus against the light streaming through the windows and into the room. Momentarily alarmed, her eyes focused clearer on the room around her: it was definitely a man's bedroom, if the dark cherry bedposts and the muted navy-blue bedspread were of any indication. Suddenly sounds, visions and sensations rushed into her brain…and her loins…as she recalled exactly what had happened the night before.

She smiled lazily as she next turned her attention to House who was lying beside her, his arm around her shoulder and her head on his. Perhaps still running on the estrogen he'd stirred (or just the sheer vision of him lying beside her after sex), she wanted him again. Turning her head slightly to kiss his bare shoulder, the light caresses seemed enough to stir but not necessarily awaken him. She continued kissing across his shoulder then along the stubbly plane of his neck. When she got to his mouth, he sleepily took hers and, cradling her head in his hands, he twisted his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp, kissing her like there was no tomorrow.

Finally breaking apart for air, she smiled her swollen lips at him then murmured, "Hey."

He grinned sleepily. "Hey yourself. How'd you sleep?"

His sleepy voice, about three octaves lower than usual, sent her stomach a'swirlin'…and it was the final energizing wake-up call she needed. Swiftly shifting her body, she straddled him and leaned down, supporting herself on her knees and hands. He immediately ran his hands up her legs, to her hips, pressing her deeper into his stomach. She grinned wider at this reaction. Watching his lips and biting her bottom one, she hummed, "I'd have slept better if someone hadn't kept waking me for sex every half hour." House's grin changed to a smirk as he traced his hands to her waist, kneading her skin as his thumbs gently stroked the sensitive areas directly below her breasts. "I swear, the guy was insatiable."

His eyebrow quirked as his blue eyes, still hazy from sleep, brightened nonetheless. "I'll have to have a talk with him. No one ravishes you without first speaking directly with me. What's his name? Do I know him?"

She tilted her head in concentration. "You do know him but he doesn't really have a NAME, per se…it's more of a nickname, like gangsters have names like 'Scar Face' and 'Bugsy'. This guy wants to be called 'The Big One'…" House's smirk widened. "…but I think that's quite an exaggeration. For the sake of this conversation, let's just call him 'Little Greggie'."

"Really? An exaggeration, you say?" His thumbs continued caressing her skin, sending wave upon wave of shiver through her body, attempting to cool her molten core. It didn't work. "Why do you say that?"

"Honestly? He's got a big head, always thinking he's better than everyone else. He's so selfish and a bit too meddlesome for my tastes."

House was having a hard time keeping a straight face. "A big head... Like an inflated ego? Or does he really have a big head?"

"Very good sized head but gynormous ego."

House choked. "Selfish and meddlesome? Why do you say meddlesome?"

She shrugged, doing an amazing job of keeping a straight face; it was such a turn on for him. "Well, he's always sticking his head my business." House couldn't help it; he began laughing, the sound rolling from deep inside. "One thing I will have to say, though: you do have to give him credit. He was always thinking with his head."

And that did it. Moving his hands to her sides, he threw her to the bed beside him and climbed atop, hoping to silence her once and for all. Pinning her down, her giggles increased as his lips took over.

"It sounds like he's really getting ahead in life." House whispered in her ear as he settled between her legs.

Romoly couldn't stop laughing as he continued to deprive her of the vital oxygen she needed to think rationally. "Stop playing head games with me."

She moaned with delighted surprise as his hips thrust forward. "Sounds like a bad case of head…" but she tuned him out…

An hour later Romoly was fast asleep on the other side of the bed, turned away from House. Opening her eyes she looked at the bedside alarm clock. 8:00 a.m. She groaned; she might've been late for work. She wasn't sure. She had to figure out what day it was first. "What day is it?" she moaned, stirring.

The other side of the bed moaned back. "I think it's Wednesday; it could be Saturday for all I know."

"You're a big help," she mumbled and sat up, pulling the bed sheet up to only partially cover her chest, on the side of the bed. Picking up the bedside phone she dialed her own number and got her answering machine. "Hey you two. It's just me. If you're up, could you please ans…"

CLICK. "Rom?" It was Angel. "The caller ID says 'HOUSE, GREG'. You sound tired…did you spend the night with him?"

Romoly turned to find him watching her, his eyes taking in the long, lean, perfectly sculpted planes of her back. Against the bright sunlight filtering through the windows, she looked like a Greek goddess statue: how she hugged the bed sheet to her chest; the way the transfixing illumination of sunlight bouncing off her beautiful skin cast a pure white quality around her; her wholesome, yet dangerously wicked, allure that completely took House by surprise. Simply put, the guy was completely taken with the sight beside him, even if her hair was a rat's nest.

"Yes, Angel, I did."

Angel squealed into the phone, forcing Romoly to hold the receiver away from her ear. "ROMOLY! That's wonderful!"

Her look never left House's as she smiled. "We'll see. Listen, we're both a bit disoriented here; it was a long night. What day is it?"

Angel paused before answering. "Have you been drinking?"

"Of course not," Romoly looked away but House, being the tactile guy that he was, moved his hand to the valley down the middle of her back, lightly skimming her impossibly soft skin. She gasped as she turned her attention to him. "What, um…" she was having trouble concentrating: now he was kissing where his fingers had just been. "…um…what day…is…it…?" She was having the hardest time finishing her sentence.

Angel knew that something was going on but didn't push it then; she'd grill Romoly when she returned. "It's Thursday. And you told me it was the big staff meeting today and that was why you couldn't get today off. You have to go in."

Romoly suddenly remembered and groaned. "You're right. I'm coming back."

"And now I want details…DETAILS!"

Romoly rolled her eyes. "Ok, ohhhh…." She couldn't finish the next 'ok' because House had begun moving his kisses around to the front. "I'll see you in a few minutes." She hung up and looked down at House who'd buried his face beneath the sheet, almost as if he were scavenging for something. "Greg, I gotta go to work." He moaned; it was clear he didn't agree.

"Aww…do you HAVE to?" The sounds of his whining were muffled against her belly button. He was moving further and further down…

Romoly knew where this was going and also knew she had put a stop to him or she'd never leave. Suddenly moving away, she jumped off the bed and turned to find House moaning; he'd been SO close. "Yes I have to go to work," She quickly made her way to the bedroom door. "And so do you. It's Thursday."

"Ah…I see what this is," House quickly got off the bed and limped stiffly after her, gasping from the pain. He needed a Vicodin, quick. Finding an extra pill-bottle in the hall, he dry-swallowed one and found her in the living room, buttoning Bobby's shirt. "You're just using me, aren't you? Just a good ole' fashioned bang job at night then we part ways in the morning. I'm feeling used here; this wasn't how it was supposed to play out," House whined pathetically, the sarcasm just oozing from his mouth. Romoly stopped buttoning to watch him, wondering what he'd say next.

"It's supposed to work like this: We're supposed to spend all morning cuddling," House sarcastically quipped, "and you'd talk about your feelings and I'd just indulge you by listening when all I really want to do is to pet the beaver again. You'd finally, FINALLY" House rolled his eyes in frustration, as if her 'denseness' was a strain on everything, "discover it was all physical for me. We're supposed to fight…well, more like a one-sided shouting match: you'd scream and I'd just roll my eyes at your absurdity. We're not supposed to talk for a few days but then just happen to bump into each other in the hall, a few more days after that. We'd fight again; you get all hissy feline on me and pounce. Then I'm supposed to shove you against a wall or door, kiss you and give you the best sex of your life against said wall or door, whichever is most convenient. Then we'd…"

Romoly's mouth hung open; she couldn't believe he was saying all of that. Granted, he was probably right: isn't what he said how it plays out in the movies and books? But it wouldn't have been what happened here. If there was one thing that Clif's situation taught her it was that she had a natural astuteness; she knew House wasn't the type of person to feel right away. And she knew he could, she'd seen glimpses of what he was capable of. She also knew it was just physical with him so she had no expectations. However, since Romoly was having trouble putting into words how she felt about him (it was some variety of love that was rare enough she couldn't put a name to it), she wasn't quite so hurt. Or at least that's what she told herself.

Clearing her throat, she interrupted him. "Greg, I know it was physical; I'm not an idiot."

House's eyes widened with confusion. "You did?" She nodded. "And it wasn't going to play out like that?" She shook her head. "But why not?" His voice had a confused…and slightly hurt…undertone. This surprised her to no end.

"Because this is real life. I knew enough about you going into tonight that I knew this probably wouldn't lead to anything. After all, you're the "want what you want; damn the consequences" type. Besides, it felt so good to be with a man again; I'd missed that. It reaffirmed my allure as a woman. Sometimes I wonder if I'm fading. So we both got what we wanted from it." She shrugged and headed for the door. Stopping at the knob, she turned to find he'd limped after her. "But, know this…I'm not a booty call. You can't just drop by, expecting sex whenever you come around. If you want sex, you'll have to make it worth my while; you'll have to do something for me. It's a give and take situation."

His eyebrow lifted at her last words. "But you just said it was physical; now you want something in return. That's not booty-call; that's a relationship."

She shook her head. "No…it's physical with conditions. If you want a booty call, call one of your prostitutes. I'm not a whore and I won't be treated as such." She smiled and leaned forward, taking his bottom lip with hers. Pulling away before he could intensify the kiss, she murmured, "And you'd better make it worth my while." With that she left, leaving the confused House wondering what just happened…and if that's what he really wanted.

He needed to talk to someone. Quick. Moving his naked form to the bathroom, he began getting ready for work. He needed to talk to Wilson.


	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Wilson walked into his office after a quick trip down the hall. It was about 9:30 a.m. and he was enjoying the peace and quiet of the hospital B.H.: Before House. It was truly remarkable how different the hospital was when House was gone; it was like night and day. The birds sang; the sun shown brighter; the stench of antiseptic even smelt a bit like roses. He could get so much work done without fearing that at any moment House would barge in, cane drawn, ready to make his life a living hell.

And yesterday it was over whether Debbie from Accounting had breasts that matched. House said no way and Jimmy was sure they matched…

"_You did her, didn't you?" House gleefully exclaimed as he pointed his cane at Wilson._

"_Of course I didn't; I just have x-ray vision," Wilson sarcastically retorted. "When you've seen as many breasts as I have…"_

"_Medically, professionally, or personally?"_

_Wilson ignored him as he continued. "…you can tell right off the bat if the twins are identical or fraternal."_

_House grinned. "While identical is ideal, fraternal is more common. What do you think: is Debbie a C or a D?"_

"_I'm not having this discussion right now; I have work to do. Go back to your hole and leave me alone."_

"_So you DID do her! Avoidance: I'm the King and I know all the tricks."_

"_LEAVE!"_

_House turned around and began walking out of the office. When he got to the office door, he stopped and said, "Fine; I know when I'm not wanted. But, just so you know…" he turned around and flashed Wilson a smile, "…they are Ds. And they are identical. But I guess you'd only know that if you'd have nailed her…" House's voice trailed off with a smile as the look of realization crossed Wilson's face._

"_NO…you didn't?"_

_House did nothing but wink and stroll away._

In all honesty, that one was rather difficult for Wilson because he'd always had a thing for Debbie in Accounting; she did have a nice rack. And a great personality. He was really getting tired of House screwing up his love life, either by driving his exes away or taking potentials from him. Shaking his head, he almost sat in his chair before he found a note held to the seat with a grotesquely large syringe: MEET ME IN THE CAFETERIA. STAT. HOUSE

Now Wilson was intrigued beyond measure; House never passed him notes. His curiosity was certainly getting the best of him. He had to know what was going on…that and his view that House was nothing but a child was reinforced by the whole note passing thing.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD

When Wilson got to the cafeteria he found House sitting in a corner, eating. Wilson began to get worried; House bought his own food? And after he'd summoned Wilson to the cafeteria? There was definitely something going on.

"Well, well, well…" Wilson said when he walked up behind House as he was scooping what looked to be eggs into his mouth. "…the world truly is ending. You bought your own food. Does this have anything to do with the reason you got me down here in the first place?"

"Actually, you ARE paying for it…" House never looked up from his food as he held up what looked to be a credit card. "…well, you and American Express."

"How did you…?"

"The how's not important; it's the why. Why did you think you WOULDN'T be paying?" Wilson snatched his credit card from House and sat down across from him. He took a moment to study House and what he saw surprised him. There was a certain amount of, for lack of a better word, aliveness that radiated from him. House moved with a quickness and energy he hadn't seen in a long time; he was forceful and energetic as he spooned the food into his mouth. Wilson would've had to admit that House looked the closest to happy he'd ever seen from him in a long time.

But there also seemed to be a confusion, a disillusion around him that almost overshadowed the "happiness". House seemed truly conflicted.

"House, what's going on? You actually look happy or at least giddy. But you don't get happy or giddy. Did something happen last night?" Wilson looked further into his eyes and almost gasped; House's eyes were twinkling, the kind of twinkle that only happens when you've had sex. And not just any sex, either; it was the twinkle you get when you've had sex with someone you love. Well, given that the subject in this case is HOUSE…he must really dig the chick. And Wilson knew who it was.

"OH MY GOD! You slept with the librarian lady, didn't you?"

"Her name is Romoly."

Wilson's eyes widened and he pointed to House. "You DID, didn't you? So how was she?"

"I'll never tell you." House shoved a piece of toast into his mouth. Truth was, the guy was ready to burst with how great the sex was; that was just House. He SO kissed and told. But at the moment, House was consumed with trying to figure out why Romoly said what she said before she left.

"Of course you'll tell me; you want to tell me; you NEED to tell me. Did the towel do her justice?" Wilson saw House's tiny smirk and suddenly knew the towel was simply icing on the cake. Wilson began drooling. "Oh my God! How do you do this? How does the sorriest jerk in the entire world end up with someone like Romoly? That just goes to show you the injustice in the world."

"Jimmy, she knew it was physical." House looked into his coffee as he said it.

"Huh?"

House sighed and looked up. Wilson was almost bowled over by the true confusion in his eyes. "She knew it was physical before we had sex. That doesn't sound like a woman. Women want commitment; they have a compulsive, instinctual need to suck the very fun out of sex by justifying the emotions and throwing in that feared six-word phrase "Where do we go from here?". She didn't do any of that."

Wilson nodded; he knew all about the use of the six-word phrase. That got him into trouble three times. "I hate that phrase." Wilson shivered. "Perhaps she's not a woman."

House's lips curled in a genuine smile as he shook his head. "Oh no, Jimmy my boy: she's a woman all right. I haven't been with a woman like that in a long time."

Wilson was getting very uncomfortable. He didn't want to hear House talking like that to him about Romoly. She was too good for his comments. "How did this even come up? Doesn't the commitment thing come up on the second or third night? Usually we're talking dates here but you two seemed to have skipped through the whole dating thing and went straight for home plate."

"It depends on the woman. If you get a really needy woman, like the kind you prefer Jimmy, you almost have to get married the…"

Wilson interrupted him. "This isn't about me; it's about you. You said something, didn't you? Why do you let your big mouth get in the way? What did you say?"

"Who says I said anything?"

Wilson threw a phrase back at House he'd heard House use many a time. "Your lips say no but your shifty eyes say 'Hell yeah.' Why can't you keep your mouth shut?"

House rolled his eyes. "And I know what's coming next: you're gonna say how much I really wanted to make her as miserable as I am so I opened my mouth. Next you're gonna say that I have no right to be confused; that I deserve everything I get. Finally you're gonna suggest that I find her and talk to her about my feelings. It's not gonna happen."

Wilson patiently waited for his diatribe to end before he opened his mouth. "What did you say?"

House recognized the determined look in his eye and knew he wasn't going to back down. "I told her that I knew how the "after sex" portion of the show was supposed to play out: that we'd get all cuddly and emotional; that she'd talk about her feelings and I'd indulge her by listening. Then when she finally learnt how it was just physical for me we'd have a fight, not talk to each other and then, after a shouting match a week later, we'd start having sex again."

Wilson couldn't believe his ears. Granted, that was how it was…but for HOUSE. Most rational men, who were as deep into their feelings as House was for the librarian (Wilson especially saw that one), wouldn't take such a cynical view of the process. Despite what he saw in House, he was deeply disturbed by the whole situation. And he could finally admit to himself why…

It would seem that Wilson had been harboring feelings for Romoly. The more and more House talked about Romoly in this fashion, the more his irk rose. He knew House's history and he certainly didn't want Romoly to become another victim. Of course, as these jealous feelings coursed through him, Wilson failed to acknowledge his lackluster love life.

"I can't believe you; this ranks right up there with that "librarianism" theory on the stupid list. I've never known someone who was so smart to have such stupid ideas. Where do they come from, anyway?" Wilson paused; he couldn't leave it at that. He had to know the rest of the story, as painful as it might be. "Well? What happened next?"

"She looked at me like I was crazy and said she already knew. She actually seemed ok about it."

"You are crazy. How did she act after that?"

"I don't know; I tuned her out after that. I think she said something about how it felt good to be with a man again and how it like reaffirmed her appeal as a woman or some such nonsense." He mumbled the last part. He remembered every word she said, including facial expressions and tones. "She then said she wasn't a booty call; that I couldn't drop by for sex whenever I wanted. Said I had to make it worth her while. What do you think that means? Money? A car?"

Wilson's mouth dropped at that. This was really getting out of hand. He couldn't believe House would suggest such a thing. Holding his hands up defensively, Wilson said, "House, that's insensitive and shallow even for you. You know what? I'm not going to argue with you; I'm not going to answer that; I'm not even going to tell you what's wrong with you. Why waste my breath?" Wilson stood up, the anger building at how House could say such things about Romoly.

Wilson didn't want to see her withering away with in a destructive relationship with House. Wilson couldn't bear to see Romoly hurt like Stacy was when House and Stacy broke up…both times.

Of course, if he knew the full extent of what happened to Romoly he might not have underestimated her.

Wilson decided to give one final jab at House, if only to make him feel lousy. He just needed to make sure he didn't betray his own emotions. "I hope you figure this out because if you don't I want a shot with her. I'll show her how a real man can treat her." With that, he walked away, leaving a confused and angry House behind. House did NOT want Romoly with Wilson; that was the last thing he wanted.

House didn't want to see Romoly with anyone; it was as simple as that. But he couldn't quite admit that he wanted her with him and no other.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD


	35. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

For about two days each player in this melodrama had tiny dramas of their own but for purely different reasons…

Romoly was an angry nervous wreck. She didn't know what to do about the situation except that she was happy she hadn't seen House during that time. A librarian beating the crap out of a cripple just wouldn't look good for anyone involved. How DARE he put her in this situation? How DARE he make her feel guilty for accepting the date of someone else? He had no right to do that; he had no claim to her. Or did he?

Romoly had to admit this was might be wrong, not like she was ever going to let House know that. She had the bad habit of giving her heart to the men she slept with; she couldn't help it. It explained why House was only her third partner in her thirty-five years. She was ok with that; she'd had long runs with the other two…well, the second one not so much. She just didn't know what to do about this situation: should she ignore House altogether? Should she rub the date in his face? Or should she ignore the dating Wilson part and continue with House, as if her dating Wilson didn't happen? She knew what she _wanted _to do…but what she wanted and what she should do were usually two completely different things.

House was…well…he was numb. He didn't know what he felt; he didn't know how he _should_ feel in the first place. This was a situation that required emotions; what did House know about emotions? He was well-versed in _feelings_, like how badly a leg can truly hurt, how earth-shatteringly good sex can feel, how Romoly's hot breath felt against his chest as she kissed his body. But actual _emotions _that derive from the very core of who a person was were a whole 'nother bucket of clams. Those he knew nothing about.

But one thing he did know for certain: he did have a physical reaction to the possibility of Wilson dating Romoly, even if it hadn't happened yet. It was a nauseating constricting of his chest muscles, around his heart. Being a doctor he knew for certain it wasn't a heart attack; he seemed to only react like this when he thought of Wilson with Romoly. He couldn't explain it except to say he'd only felt it with one woman before. And they were together for five years…

Wilson was conflictingly floating on air. He was excited about his date with Romoly but he could never forget that House was his friend. Why was Wilson doing this? Was he doing it to have some fun with a beautiful woman, with the hope of getting laid? Or was he doing this because he wanted to teach House a lesson? And that's when the guilt began setting in. _You idiot! What are you doing? What are you doing to House?_

Sudden and Inexplicable ire rose within him. House! It's always about HOUSE: how Wilson's marriages were affecting HOUSE; how Wilson's paycheck bought HOUSE lunch; how Wilson's life revolved around HOUSE. For once, Wilson was going to stand up against House and make a move for himself. Damn the consequences…

And that's what he did. In the late afternoon of the second day, as he was finishing his notations for that day's patients, he grabbed the telephone, pulled out the number from his wallet, turned his chair away from the office door and rang up Romoly.

She answered on the third ring, her voice a bit breathless. "Hello?"

"Romoly? This is James."

A slight pause then, "Hi James! How are you?" Romoly's voice was a bit hesitant; not that Wilson blamed her. He was feeling the same way.

"I'm good. Listen," he began then decided to rush through it; if it came out faster than it wouldn't be so difficult, right? "I-was-wondering-if-you'd-like-to-go-out-with-me-soon?"

Romoly took a few moments to digest that jumble of words. With a slight smile on her face, she nodded. "Sure. The only night I have free for the next few days is tonight actually. My cousin's husband got called into work early and they had to cut their visit short. They left about an hour ago so now I don't have any plans. Is tonight too soon?"

"NO!" Wilson almost shouted; Romoly had to hold the receiver away from her ear because he was so loud. He coughed then said in a much calmer voice, "No, no. Not at all." He looked at his watch. "It's 4:30. How about if I pick you up at 8:00? I can make the reservations right now. What do you say?"

Romoly, still not sure why she was agreeing to this, simply asked, "What about Greg?"

Wilson paused. Why'd she have to bring that up now? "You know what? I don't care about House right now. He's being his usual selfish bastard self. I want to take you to dinner and if he doesn't like it he can suck on it."

And this made Romoly smile. She was very glad Wilson was standing up to House, no matter what might happen. It was rather exciting. "Great. I'll see you at 8:00?"

Wilson took a deep breath to calm his nervous and smiled. "Yes. I'll see you then." Wilson put down the phone, raised his arms, cupped the back of his head with his hands, leaned back into the swiveled desk chair, closed his eyes and sighed. He thought that went well…all except for the asking her out part. But she didn't seem to think him any less of a man for it. His smile increased as, behind his closed eyes, he visualized how she'd look in a little black dress, smelling great, black pumps accentuating her killer legs…

Wilson was too busy basking in the glory of scoring his date with Romoly that he failed to notice the person standing in the doorway, his cane poised to knock down the door. He'd been ready to scare the dickens out of Wilson when he caught every word of his conversation. House wasn't happy as he worked over his tensed jaw. This didn't surprise House that Wilson was going along with the date; hell, HE'D certainly do it if the tables were turned. But House wasn't about to let this go without a fight. He knew what he had to do so he quietly left, his mind formulating a plan…


	36. Chapter 35

**Yep, it's a REALLY long chapter. I hope it's entertaining though…**

**Chapter 35**

As the time for her date approached, Romoly was putting the final touches on her wardrobe. She'd chosen a peach-colored cotton-blend shift dress that stopped mid-thigh. The scoop neckline plunged enough to show a bit of cleavage and the elastic short sleeves accented her toned arms. A delicate simple gold chain, small gold hoops and a pair of tan ballet flats rounded out the simple but elegant ensemble. She was trying to keep everything understated; she didn't want Wilson getting the wrong idea.

At 8:00 on the nose the door heralded Wilson's arrival. Sighing quietly and quickly composing herself, she took one last look in the living room mirror then went to open the door, plastering a smile on her face. She did realize she wasn't nearly as excited about dressing for this date as she was dressing for the fundraiser. This date felt forced, almost as if she were trying to make something happen she already knew wouldn't happen.

She ignored the fact that she was really mad because she wasn't dressing for House.

Pushing all distracting thoughts from her mind, she focused on the visitor that suddenly appeared with the opening of the door. Wilson looked fabulous in a nicely-pressed, and obviously expensive, chocolate-brown suit, plain tan silk tie and starched white shirt. The suit was the perfect color of brown, almost as if it had been dyed to match his hair. His shoes and face were shiny and he was holding a bouquet of pink roses this time. She gasped when she saw both Wilson and the roses.

"Oh James, these are GORGEOUS! Thank you so much!" Romoly exclaimed, taking the flowers he'd pushed toward her and buried her face in their softness. "Pink roses are my favorites but white daisies and lavender are my other favorites. I really do love blooms."

"Lavender? Really? That's great. My mom loved lavender when I was growing up." Wilson stopped and took a moment to survey the scene in front of him: she was holding the flowers against that amazing dress of hers. She really looked wonderful and Wilson felt so much pride just to have made her that happy.

"James, can you give me two minutes? I need to put these into a vase then we can go."

He nodded. "Sure." He followed her further inside, impressed with how she decorated. House was right: she certainly wasn't a needlepointer and she didn't seem to own up to any part of that stupid stereotype of his.

She soon reappeared carrying the vase and set it on the coffee table with a happy sigh. "There we are." She turned back, her smile brilliant at his thoughtfulness. Her eyes clouded with a sudden thought. "What?" James asked.

Romoly was hesitant to ask but knew she should. "James, did Greg see you when you got here?"

Wilson shrugged. "I didn't see him. Anyway, what does it matter? He's not your boyfriend, fiancée or husband. You're a grown woman; you can make your own decisions. He's just going to have to deal with it."

Romoly knew Wilson was right; she was just nervous for some reason. "Let me grab my wrap and we'll be off." She grabbed the wrap from that hideous coat rack/tree thing but he took it from her, wrapping it around her shoulders before she could say anything. "Here, allow me." Romoly blushed as she then watched him take her hand, place it on his elbow, and led her from the apartment. This was treatment she was used to; Clif always did things like that.

She really could picture herself getting used to it again.

And now she was looking forward to dinner…if only she could stop thinking about what this might be doing to her neighbor…

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

Once they were seated in the Italian restaurant and wine was ordered, Romoly picked up her menu. She didn't get three entrees through the menu before she felt eyes on her. Looking up apprehensively, she found Wilson watching her instead of reading his menu. She was beginning to get nervous. "What?"

"Nothing. Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

Romoly was now fidgeting. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly this uncomfortable; she was never this uncomfortable with House. It wasn't like she feared Wilson would do something; it was more like she felt she was betraying House. She instantly knew this was a bad idea. "Twice, on the way over." Romoly felt she needed to distract him back to the meal. "Have you been here before?"

Wilson nodded. "It's one of my favorite restaurants. In fact, you…"

"Excuse me, sir?" Both looked up from their conversation to see a waiter standing in front of them holding a tray with a wine bucket, a white towel wrapped around the cold bucket, a bottle of what looked to be Dom Perignon Rosé, and two glasses. "Here's the champagne you ordered."

Romoly looked from the waiter to the pink champagne to Wilson, who was completely dumbfounded. Wilson then shook his head and exclaimed, "But we didn't order this! Take it back!"

The waiter shook his head and began removing the foil from the bottle's neck. "I'm sorry, sir, but it says here you get the bottle. And the ticket never lies. Besides…" POP! The cork sprang from the bottle top and pink fuzzy fluid jumped out, drenching the floor with the expensive champagne. "…the bottle's open. It's too late now." The waiter poured two glasses and handed the first flute of pink bubbly to Romoly with a smile.

"But that's $350 a bottle!" Wilson continued protesting. The waiter rolled his eyes and started lifting the flute to Wilson…then threw the champagne in his face! Wilson sputtered as he struggled to catch his breath. Before anyone could say anything, the waiter had left the champagne on the table and high-tailed it out of there.

"Oh James!" Romoly shrieked, shocked at the impertinence…and the strange turn of events…shown by the waiter. She grabbed her linen napkin and gave it to him. "Are you ok?"

"I don't know…I'm drowning in bubbles!" He joked, despite the situation. This caused Romoly to suddenly start laughing. Coughing up more bubbles, Wilson muttered gruffly, "Thanks so much. You're show of support is overwhelming."

"I'm… I'm… I'm sorry!" Romoly was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. By now the couple had drawn an audience, all of them whispering about the man covered in pink bubbles and the woman laughing beside him. It was quite comical: women with glasses of wine stopped mid-lift; men with forks stopped in mid-air; prim, rich wives with disgusted snarls on their faces as their husbands gazed longingly at the scene, remembering those days that were long gone, the days before their wives had become money-spending harpies.

"Ok, ok; I get it. I'm a riot. Let's just order, ok? And now we've got expensive champagne. We might as well enjoy it." Romoly was still laughing, slapping the table as she attempted to catch her breath. "Romoly, honey, you're making a scene."

"I… can't… help… it… it's… so… funny!" Romoly gasped, holding her stomach with a sigh. Finally calming, she lifted her flute and took a sip of the expensively dangerous weapon. It really was good; should be for $350 a bottle.

"It's not that funny…" Wilson grumbled under his breath as he wet his napkin with his water to remove the stickiness from his face.

A few moments later, another waiter arrived with an apologetic look on his face. "I'm so sorry; I don't know what came over Ted. We've dealt with him. Please, allow us to make it up to you."

"Don't charge us for the champagne; it was never ours to begin with," Wilson grumbled, not even looking at the waiter.

"Absolutely, sir." The waiter mumbled. "Do you know what you want?"

Romoly looked up from her menu and smiled at the waiter who instantly smiled brighter. "Excuse me, what are today's specials?"

He was too busy staring at her to understand what she asked. Shaking his head as if finally realizing where he was, he coughed and asked, "What?" She smiled wider and repeated what she asked. "Oh, well, our soup of the evening is tomato, fennel and basil. We have a rack of lamb with raspberry brandy sauce, served with asparagus and mashed potatoes. And our seafood of the evening is shrimp sautéed with red pepper, white wine and a touch of cream served over angel hair pasta. Both dishes are amazing."

Romoly looked at Wilson who smiled and nodded. Looking back at the waiter, she smiled again and said, "I'll take the shrimp. Can I get a house salad with creamy Italian dressing on the side?"

The waiter looked shocked, if only for a split second; he recovered and asked, "House salad, did you say?" Romoly threw him a look of 'Are you ok?' as she nodded. He coughed then scribbled on his pad. "Sure." He looked at Wilson who was curious about the whole interchange. "And you sir?"

"Just a moment: why did you look shocked when she said HOUSE salad? Is something going on?"

The waiter looked genuinely shocked at Wilson's inquiry. "Of course not! Why would you assume that? No, that was the first time I've had anyone order the house salad with the shrimp; most people have been ordering the Caesar with that dish. It just took me off guard." Wilson looked reluctantly convinced. "Now, do you know what you want?"

"I'll take the rack of lamb and a house salad to go with that."

"Excellent choice; the house salad is much better with that dish than the Caesar. I'll bring your salads out momentarily." With a final lingering smile on Romoly, he walked away to put in their orders.

"What was that all about?" Romoly asked. "That's got to be one of the weirdest conversations I've ever witnessed. I mean, who questions salad choices?"

"You do when one of them is named after your insane best friend." Wilson sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry Romoly. I think I'm just paranoid that House is gonna show up at anytime."

Romoly had the same fear. "Maybe he's hiding around the corners, lurking like the Boogie-man."

Wilson smiled then laughed with relief. "Perhaps. I'm sorry. This night has just turned out weird."

Romoly shrugged with relief though she still had the nagging thought that House was somehow involved. "Did you tell him we were going out tonight?"

Wilson shook his head. "You called after he left the hospital and I hadn't talked to him. He doesn't know we're on a date. Besides, I'm not about to tell him any of my plans."

She relaxed some but the tenseness was still there. "What if he saw us through the peephole?"

Wilson stiffened. "House would need quite a bit of notice in order to pull off anything major. He just doesn't have the time. We're safe; don't worry about it."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

Wilson and Romoly talked amicably, sipped champagne and ate their salads as they waited for their orders to arrive. The longer they talked the more they both realized they were much better friends than anything more, despite any physical attraction on Wilson's part. They were very comfortable with each other but neither felt what was needed to go any further than that. And certainly not what Romoly felt for House.

As they were talking, Romoly still had the eerie feeling something wasn't right. Something was bound to happen; it just had to. That expression, "It was quiet. Too quiet." certainly applied in this case. Their pink champagne shower was just a bit too suspicious as well. "James," Romoly began as she poured another glass. Given her high tolerance for liquor (which was exceptional given how rarely she indulged) and the lower alcohol content of champagne as compared to other alcoholic drinks, Romoly felt no effect. "I still don't feel right about this. I still have the feeling something's going to happen." Romoly looked around as if wondering what was around the corner. "It's quiet…"

"…too quiet? Yeah I agree." But Wilson's body language didn't imply that he was all that frightened. In fact it seemed he couldn't hold his liquor like she could. He shrugged. "But I doubt if anything will happen."

"How can you be so optimistic?"

Wilson sighed. "Because it's who I am. I've been married three times; I've had countless relationships and I'm still friends with The Killer Whale. What does that make me?"

Romoly chuckled a bit. "Either optimistic or certifiably loony."

He chuckled as well. "The older I get, the more I lean to the latter. This…" Wilson lightly pounded the table with the tip of his right index finger. "…is something House nor I have encountered during our friendship. We've never let a woman come in between us." Romoly looked down, embarrassed. Wilson realized his blunder and backpedaled. "Oh, no! I never meant it like that. I just meant that I've never asked out a woman that House seemed interested in or vice versa."

"Is Greg really interested in me?" Romoly wanted to hear someone close to House say it. "What did he say?"

Wilson shook his head. "He didn't have to say anything but I know. I see it whenever…" but Wilson was interrupted by a faint sizzling sound and the aroma of approaching delicacies.

"Ok, here we are," The waiter who took their order (_I think his name is Jeremy,_ Romoly thought) arrived with another waiter in tow to help with their orders. When Jeremy set the sizzling shrimp in front of Romoly, she noticed three gigantic, fully-bloomed pink rosebuds on her plate. Confused, she looked up at the waiter. "Excuse me? Does this dish normally come with roses on the side?"

Jeremy leaned down to look at her plate. "Yep. Why? Is that a problem?"

"Nooo…" she slowly drew out the word. "…it's just weird, that's all." She instantly thought about all the roses she'd encountered that day: the pink roses Wilson gave her; the pink champagne; and now these pink roses on her plate. _Is something really going on? And what do the roses mean? Are they supposed to be symbolic for something?_

"How's it weird? We use roses in our cooking all the time." Jeremy turned to the other waiter, who was holding Wilson's plate. "And for you, sir: the rack of lamb."

The waiter set it on the table in front of Wilson and, when Wilson looked at it, he shrieked, "WHAT IS THAT?" as he pointed to his plate. Everyone leaned over for a better look and Romoly gasped loudly.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "NOW what are you complaining about, sir?"

Wilson shut his eyes with disgust as he pointed to the plate. "This lamb still has its ears, tail and wool!" And he was absolutely right: sitting in approximately the correct locations, anatomically speaking, were the singed remains of once-white, curly wool that covered the sides of the delectable-looking meat; ear-shaped, blackened flesh at the top with few specks of cream-colored wool covering the underside of each ear; and a gray, thin, charred-wool tail hanging from the side. It certainly wasn't a pretty sight, one that would've sent PETA running for their heart medication.

Jeremy looked at the plate again and tilted his head. "Well, by jove he does, doesn't he? Aww… ain't he cute?" Jeremy looked at Wilson, then back at the meat. "He must be one of our organic lambs." Jeremy nodded. "Yep, we serve them just like they're served on the farm: el natural. It's really too bad; you missed the lamb that was still "bahing" the other night." Jeremy looked away as if he fondly remembered the event. Both Wilson and Romoly, neither willing quite yet to look at the meat, stared at Jeremy in horror. "The lamb was quite talented; it actually knew all the notes to the theme song of 'Miami Vice'."

Romoly didn't believe, for a moment, what was happening. She had that feeling, that back of the neck sensation, one gets when they know things aren't kosher but it's too weird to explain. That's just what it was: weird. The whole thing was too weird to believe. Shaking her head with disbelief, she took one last look at the lamb. Spying something odd on the plate (and it must've been REALLY odd, given what she was looking at), she looked up at Wilson who'd begun arguing with Jeremy and was paying no attention to her. Romoly turned back to the plate and slowly moved her hand until she grabbed what she'd seen. It was a folded piece of paper!

Romoly had to smile as she turned away from Wilson and unfolded the paper, which read:

Mary had a little lamb named Bert,

It's fleece was white as snow;

And everywhere that Mary went,

People just assumed he was her beau.

She didn't say yes, she didn't say no

When people asked her who he was;

She just led him around with her,

As he shook his butt a fuzz.

Until one day, she ran into Larry,

Her ex-boyfriend come a visitin' from Austin.

He saw red and grabbed her Bertie

And the result was a good roastin'.

Just remember this, the next time you

Try to steal another man's pretty lamb.

You could end up just like Bert:

A playa's main course served with yams.

Romoly choked; she was speechless. With the culprit so obviously being House, he'd clearly wrote this for Wilson about her. Her heart started beating faster as she suddenly thought of all the trouble he went to pull this together. For the first time, she saw House showing an emotion, not a feeling, whether he knew it or not. He probably thought he was pulling a prank, giving no matter to what the time or expensive really meant to Romoly. Though still confused but very curious, Romoly looked back at the dish. The confusion suddenly became very clear as she began laughing as what was really going on finally sunk in: she'd caught sight of another slip of paper, this one hidden underneath an "ear". It was a tag that read "Made in China".

Judging from her easy detection of the papers, Romoly knew the culprit wanted the prank to be easily discovered. And she then knew who did it. She had to admit, though: the lamb body parts looked real, the poem was very clever (she was most proud about that one) and the cooked meat did look delectable.

Wilson stared at her in horror. "Why are you laughing? This isn't funny at all!"

She fought to contain her laughter but every time she saw the lamb's ears the 'Miami Vice' theme ran through her head and her laughter just spilled out. "I'm sorry…James. I'm laughing… because… because…" she coughed because she was choking on her words. "…because this is the WORST date I've ever been on." She was hiccupping.

Wilson threw up his hands. "Take this back. Just bring me desert."

Jeremy looked at Wilson uncertainly. "Are you sure? He looks delicious."

Wilson stood up from his chair. "Absolutely! This is DISGRACEFUL. I've never been treated so…so…terribly in a restaurant in my entire life. This…" he pointed to the dish and looked down. That's when he saw the 'Made in China' tag.

Catching him at just the right moment, Romoly, coughing and sputtering, handed the paper to him. "This…um…this was underneath, um, Bertie." Romoly tried to keep her laughter at bay by containing it behind her hands. All she really did was give herself more hiccups in the process. Upon reading the poem Romoly handed him, Wilson shook his head, closed his eyes, and said, "Oh God."

"And that's what he moaned after our first date." House's gruff voice came from behind Romoly and her breath caught. Looking up, she saw House watch her as he passed, his suddenly hungry eyes devouring her in her dress. This made her heart beat faster, even though she was still laughing behind her hands.

He regarded her seriously for a moment. "Yeah, he took us here on our first date as well. He takes all his first dates here. I remember it well: he had the Tortelloni Fiorentina and I had the Spaghetti Bolognese. And the sex afterwards was amazing. I've never had it better, from anyone." Romoly choked at this, fighting to hold back the laughter beginning to intensify. House grinned at her. "Oh, didn't you know? Dr. Wilson here" he loudly declared, pointing to James who'd fallen back into his chair while shooting death-stares at House, "and I were LOVERS." House screamed that last word.

House grinned like the mischievous 5-year-old he was and looked around at the entire restaurant. Not a soul was breathing, much less eating. When the lamb first came out, some had started standing up to leave, believing that the cooked meat still had its body parts. Who wanted to eat at a place like that? But once word got around the lamb wasn't real they began to calm down. They then wondered what really was going on. Eying the table, with the pink champagne-stained linen tablecloth, the 'el natural' lamb and Romoly's rosy shrimp, House's look turned smug. He was quite proud of himself.

"SHUT. UP. HOUSE." Wilson hissed each word. He was baffled about how House knew they were even going out tonight. But he hated to admit it: House had him pegged about the restaurant. He'd told House enough about the restaurant that it would be stupid for House NOT to have known he'd choose this particular restaurant. This didn't keep Wilson from being scared out of his skin though; he had no idea what House would do next. "Why are you here? Why are you doing this?" Wilson hissed.

"Jimmy, baby. I wasn't about to let you make the worst mistake of your life. We are meant to be together! You flip back and forth between me and other men, then me and other women. Why can't you realize that WE are meant to be?" House moved closer and when he put his hand on Wilson's shoulder, Wilson froze with fright.

"I want you back, my Jimmy Willy. Pete misses you." House looked at the other diners who watched wordlessly. They looked happy that their dinners were no longer boring and that they didn't have to talk about how little Bobby got in trouble at school once again. Watching other people's problems were a lot better.

Romoly, still having the hardest time not laughing up her lung, managed to ask between coughs, "Who's Pete?"

House turned his gleaming eyes to her; he was very glad, and very surprised, that she was enjoying this.

"Pete's our pet rock."

Romoly snorted. She couldn't hold back any longer as she grabbed her side and leaned over to the side of her chair, the gales of laughter falling to the floor. It had to have been the champagne; most women would get angry about being embarrassed in front of everyone.

Wilson, who'd quickly moved away from House, stood up and looked him in the eye. "Are you spouting off your mouth because you're pissed off that Romoly and I went out? Did you go to all this trouble just to prove a point? Tell me: what's going on?" Romoly's gales of laughter greatly lessened as she sat up, holding her sides. She wanted to hear this.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

House's smile faded as he looked from Wilson to Romoly and back again. "Because it's fun."

"But why our first date? Couldn't you have done something at work or in the cafeteria at the hospital? And why did it have to involve Romoly?"

"If it was just fun then why did you use expensive champagne? Why not the cheap stuff?" Romoly asked, taking deep breaths to slow her breathing. The tide had turned; the situation was now a serious one. House looked around, each patron on the edge of their seats. They were as caught up in the drama as the central players were.

House opened his mouth to say something when they heard the booming voice of the manager: "Ok, joke's over. You're disrupting the restaurant and I'm going to have to ask you to leave." To the manager's surprise the entire restaurant groaned; they wanted to hear House's response. House was glad the manager interrupted. Just how was House supposed to get out of admitting that he wanted Romoly to have the best? How would THAT go over? He did have the image of selfish jerk to protect.

"Awww, come on! Just let them stay! We want to know why he ruined their date!" a man shouted in the back.

"Are you really gay?" A woman asked from two tables away.

"NO!" Wilson defensively yelled.

"YES!" House sarcastically yelled back.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Well, are you or aren't you?"

"No they aren't. Don't believe a word this guy just said." Romoly pointed to House who simply stuck his tongue out. She stood up after she found the strength from her laughing jag. Looking at House, Romoly said, "Apologize to your best friend and then tell me why you went to so much expense and effort to ruin the date." House opened his mouth to complain but she raised her eyebrow in a very 'don't you DARE defy me' stance.

"Fine." He turned to Wilson, whose own eyebrow was flying high. House mumbled something but no one could understand it.

"What did you say?" Wilson loudly asked.

"I'm sorry." House looked at Romoly. "Is that good enough?"

"That'll do. I know you don't really mean it but to have you say it will have to be enough." Romoly said as she moved closer to him. House became transfixed by the way her body moved under the dress and his fingers itched like they always did to move along the soft curves of her body. How he missed her; he wanted her so badly… "Now tell me why you did this." House didn't say a word as he continued watching her.

She opened her mouth to say something else when another patron asked, "Are you blind? He loves you. Can't you see that?"

Romoly studied him further but knew it was best not to call him on that one. She wanted him to be the first to admit whatever he felt, not to downplay, counteract or correct what someone else had said. It certainly wasn't going to happen there.

The manager was REALLY mad by then. "Excuse me? Are you done? It's time for you to find the door and use it. I want you people out of here, now."

Romoly was caught between the two men, with Wilson glaring at House; House watching Romoly; and Romoly watching the space between them. Wilson finally broke the silence with, "My date is not over yet." He grabbed his suit coat and her wrap. "We are going to finish this date, no matter what you may think. If you don't like it, get yourself a hooker." Only House heard Romoly's breath hitch at this; she did NOT want him getting a hooker.

And this tiny sound did more for House than anything else could have at that moment. He wasn't going to let her finish that date; she was going home with him. Grabbing her hand, House pulled Romoly to him. In a gruff but loud and firm voice, House stated, "You aren't going with him. You're coming home with me."

The crowd gasped, everyone leaning forward for a better view and clearer sound. It truly was like the crowd leaning forward during a suspenseful portion of the movie.

Romoly, though absolutely and completely willing to go with him, wasn't leaving without putting up a fight. Yanking her hand from his grasp, she stared at a shocked House. "And why should I leave with you?"

House looked at her as if she were insane. "Well, why wouldn't you want to?" And he left it at that.

"Excuse me; you're going to have to clarify. What's that supposed to mean?"

House rolled his eyes arrogantly. "I'm the very best you could do; I'm the best around. Besides, I know you were coming anyway. Are you coming or do I have to drag you?"

"NO!" The enthralled crowd gasped as Romoly's eyes began flashing. She absolutely did not like to be told what to do. She'd had enough of that with Clif and had told herself she wasn't going to let it happen again. "I'm in the middle of a date with a very hot guy. You can't just tell me what I am thinking or what I was going to do. You're not a mind reader. You don't always get your way." Romoly turned to her date. "Let's go. I know this little coffeehouse that's open after midnight. Why they're serving coffee that late I'll never know." Wilson nodded, holding up the wrap for her but grinning like a Cheshire cat. Romoly nodded thanks as he covered her shoulders.

Taking a few steps to the exit, amidst the enthralled patrons, Romoly heard House's breathing quicken before he bellowed, "BUT YOU SLEPT WITH ME!" Ripples of chatter went through the restaurant. The plot had just thickened, thereby making things a lot more interesting for the patrons.

House's voice changed to sarcasm. "Or had you forgotten? Don't you think that meant something?"

Romoly and Wilson stopped walking in mid-stride. The anger began boiling up again; how DARE he go and shout something so personal about her to a group of strangers?

With her back still to House, Romoly said, "It didn't mean anything to you; it was only physical. At least that's what you said." She turned back around and stood up tall and straight, her battle stance one of protective defiance. "It's what you wanted. In fact you told me it was what you wanted. Now you're outraged because I won't go home with you."

"But you OWE ME!" He hissed, limping closer to her, anger flashing in his bright blues. The crowd gasped and leaned further forward. A faint "NO! DON'T HURT HER!" could be heard in the background.

"I owe you NOTHING." She spat back. For once Romoly felt genuine, unadulterated rage. "YOU seduced me; YOU pursued me; YOU broke into my apartment and snooped around for things that weren't of your concern; YOU can't stop acting like a child. If anything YOU owe the both of US," and she pointed to Wilson and herself, "a great deal."

House narrowed his eyes. "It pisses me off you'd spread outrageous lies about he, here, in front of an audience."

"YOU'RE pissed off?" Wilson stepped closer to House with a courage everyone was surprised to see. "I'm sick and tired of all these crappy pranks and messes and situations you're continuously putting me in because you're a child who can't channel his emotions properly. I get it: it's healthy to be jealous when your best friend starts dating the girl you like. That's fine. It's UNHEALTHY to play a prank on them. If you like her, tell her. But not right now…" he stepped back to Romoly and took her elbow. "We're on a date and so help me if you screw things up…"

No matter what House usually said or did to Wilson, he'd always known how far to push it before breaking and never took it to that point. This night was an exception; House had simply let his emotions, for once, overtake him. While it was good because he really should do it more, it was too bad he couldn't have used that power for good instead of the evil he really used it for. "You'll do what? Bang her then leave her crying when you nail another cancer patient? Abandon her at home as you spend all your time at the hospital? Trade her up for a different model when she gets too old?"

Wilson, seeing red, punched House right in the jaw, sending the bigger man down with a heavy THUD. A cheer went through the restaurant crowd as Wilson turned back to Romoly. "Shall we go?" The stunned Romoly could do nothing but nod and, leaving House holding his jaw, Wilson walked, Romoly taking a concerned look behind. He saw her watching him, almost pleading with her not to go with Wilson but Romoly turned away. House needed this; he needed to be disciplined. Yet that didn't stop the fluttering in her stomach as she'd watched the result of the two men battling over her. She had to admit it was thrilling.

But what do they do about House?

The couple left House just lying on the floor, in the midst of the dinner crowd, all eyes watching the door. House knew he'd handled the situation completely wrong. Sighing and getting up, he turned to everyone. They were staring at him like he was evil or something. Before he could open his mouth to comment, a small voice from the back broke through the stillness of the restaurant with a question:

"Since when did this restaurant become a dinner theater? I was here just last week and there was no show." House turned to the voice and saw a tiny, frail woman pointing to him. She looked completely in earnest. "Bravo! Young man, you should be a professional actor; you have a gift. That was truly amazing. It looked so real." The woman turned to her dinner companion, who was staring at the woman in astonishment. "Harriett, did you see that?"

House was stunned: his personal life was put on display and this lady thought it was a play?

"Yes, Ruth, I saw it. But it wasn't a play. Those people were customers."

"Hogwash!" Ruth turned to House. "So when's the next showing? I want to bring everyone from the senior center to see this."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

The rest of the date was absolutely wonderful: Wilson listened to her like no man had listened to her in a long, long time. They learned a lot about each other; themselves…and most of all House.

When the date was over, Wilson walked Romoly to her door. "Thank you for a wonderful time James."

"Before, during or after the lamb?" Wilson asked, chuckling at the awkwardness of the situation.

Romoly chuckled right back. "You know, I'm glad it happened. I don't think we'd have as good of a date afterwards if it hadn't been for Bertie."

Wilson, remembering the poem, pulled it out of his pocket with a laugh. "Yeah, I kept the poem. I have to say, it's very, very good. House just might have the gift of poetry after all."

Romoly laughed full-stop with that, shaking her head and placing her hand in Wilson's, the one that still held the poem. "I don't think so." Wilson chuckled louder. And it was their laughing that brought noises in the apartment next door. Romoly caught the dark shadow moving underneath the door.

House was pacing, listening and watching them. He'd obviously been waiting up.

Romoly decided to have a little fun. Placing both hands on Wilson's shoulders, she leaned up and placed her mouth beside his ear. His breath hitched as her warm breath caressed the sensitive membrane. "Greg is watching. We need to kiss."

Wilson's breath caught all together with this. Moving his mouth to her opposite ear, he whispered, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. In fact, we need to make out for awhile then, when Greg comes out, tell him that we're going to see each other again. Better yet: let's pretend to start dating steadily and see what he'd do. I can't think of a better way to get back at him than by pretend dating. It will kill him."

While Wilson didn't like the pretend dating part…he wanted a real girlfriend…he would never pass up a chance to turn the tables on House. Nodding slowly, Wilson said, "Ok. Ready?"

"Yep. Let'er rip."

Wilson broke from her, gently took her face with his hands and looked down at her mouth. Caressing her soft cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, he lowered his mouth to hers and gently suckled her bottom lip. At first. Within mere moments the kiss became deeper and she moaned involuntarily, the skill of his mouth and tongue taking her by surprise.

The world around them seemed to be rushing but a loud, gruff almost wailing noise seemed to penetrate through the chaos. Suddenly the couple was broken apart and someone stood between them. When Romoly finally got her bearings and her world became clear again, she saw what the intrusion was.

It was House. And he looked mad. Really, REALLY mad.


	37. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

"Just what do you think you're doing?" House couldn't choose a specific person to get mad at; at the moment he hated them both. They were the reason his leg hurt; THEY caused the stewing and pacing in his apartment, his mind wandering to what they were doing. Alone. By themselves. Without a chaperone. House pictured Wilson's hands moving down, down, down to those breasts, so perky, so ripe for the plucking…where only HIS hands belonged.

Romoly's next words broke him from his fanciful daydreaming. "We're kissing. It was a very good kiss, as a matter of fact. And now you've interrupted it." She looked at Wilson. Smiling devilishly, she asked, "Think we should start over?"

House held up his hand and cane, waving it between them. "Oh no you don't. I pay rent here too and I don't want such lewd behavior out in the hall."

"Get used to it House," Wilson said, looking at Romoly with a grin. "Rom's agreed to go on another date with me. Isn't that right?"

_God bless him,_ she thought, grateful he was playing up their dating act. "Yes it is Jimmy."

"ROM? DATE? JIMMY?" House was flabbergasted at the sudden turn of events. This wasn't what he wanted when he planned the prank. What he'd planned for that very moment was very different than that conversation: he'd planned on being in naked ecstasy with her. This just wasn't how it was supposed to be; House always won one way or the other. It was the natural order of things and how it was always meant to be. "You mean…you two are DATING?"

"Well," she looked at Wilson for confirmation who simply smiled, the second time that night, like a Cheshire cat. Things seemed to be going his way against House…for once. Romoly continued. "I guess we are. I'm really excited. Jimmy's taking me to a lecture at the University."

House rolled his eyes; he could top that. "Do you like monster trucks? I got season tickets."

"Wow…as tempting as that sounds, from what Jimmy says, the lecture sounds really exciting. It's called "How Post-Modern Industrialism, A Zoo Cage and Macy's Put Together Have Become Our Culture's Prison." It should really make you think."

"Yeah…about how you want to be with me and not Jimmy." House muttered. He stopped and quietly asked, "You two are really dating, huh?"

"It would seem," Romoly slowly said, intentionally vague with her answer.

House looked down at his cane. "But wasn't I enough?" Unfortunately neither Romoly nor Wilson caught the slight smirk on his face. It was an act, one that House was very good at.

Romoly opened then closed her mouth. She had no idea what to say or do. Turning to Wilson for guidance, she was surprised to see the conflict on Wilson's face; it was obvious he was fighting to believe that House was sincere. He just didn't know what to believe either. So she decided to make light of the situation. "No. You just aren't needy enough for me. Besides," she looked at Wilson, "Jimmy's got the dimples; you don't. I'm a sucker for dimples." Romoly studied House and her heart ached. She didn't want to hurt him and she could see he wasn't happy about this. Moving forward, she stopped in front of him. "We'll always have…um…" Romoly searched for…something…they had in common.

"…this…" House finished, grabbing Romoly by the waist and pulling her to him. Taking a brief moment to study her mouth and eyes, he brought his mouth to hers and sucked all the air out, burning the image in his brain. She responded immediately and with a fervor she didn't have with Wilson. She couldn't help it; it had, and always would be, that way with House. And with each dance of their tongues, each slow, deep caress, she lost herself more to him.

Releasing her, House backed away, threw one last, lingering look at Romoly, then turned to his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Romoly quietly studied the closed door for a moment, desperately trying to regain her senses. "So how do you think that went?"

Wilson studied the door, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "Better than I'd have expected; he wasn't yelling. The kiss sure threw me though. But it could've been worse; he usually yells at this stage. I couldn't tell you what to expect since I don't know what's going to come next. I do know that he's gonna make our lives a living hell until we either give in and you go to him, or he finds another distraction."

That second possibility wasn't something she particularly wanted. "What should we do?"

Wilson didn't know why he was suggesting what he was about to suggest but it came out anyway: "Let's keep dating." He stepped closer so that House, who they knew was listening, couldn't hear. "Let's even have him catch us in bed."

Romoly wasn't so sure about that; she didn't want House thinking she was sleeping with someone else. "I don't think that's a good idea." And she briefly relayed what happened with Bobby. "It wasn't pretty. I couldn't do that to him again."

"We wouldn't actually have to be having sex; it just needs to appear that way. But don't you see? It doesn't matter what you do; he's always going to meddle in your life but he won't commit. Besides, you've got to show him you've moved on and that he really does need to make a commitment."

Romoly didn't appreciate that deceit; it was one thing to prank, like they were doing, but to take it that far wasn't what she wanted to do. No matter how House was, she couldn't bring herself to sink to that level of deceit. She shook her head. "Let's not think that far right now, ok? Let's just date then see if he breaks. I don't want to use that card unless it becomes absolutely necessary." Wilson nodded. "But I did want to invite both you and Greg to a library party. Wanda, the woman that House sent to the hospital, is retiring. Her last day is this Friday and we're introducing her replacement. I wanted you two to meet the rest of the library. What do you say?"

"That sounds good. House won't want to go."

"Let's just ask him." Romoly trooped over to his door and banged loudly. "Greg, come on out and play!"

"NOOO!" the muffled reply answered her.

"Why not?"

"I don't play with girls who tease."

"I'll let you look up my dress…and I'm not wearing any underwear."

The door flew open. "But won't Jimmy tattle to the playground teacher?"

"Probably but you've gotta be sneaky about it."

House fought back the tiny smile sneaking up on him. "What do you want? Why aren't you sucking the face off Jimmy, now that you're dating and all?"

Romoly caught the slight hurtful whining in his voice. "We're having a party at the library this Friday."

House laughed sarcastically. "And why do you think I'd be interested in that?"

"Because Wanda's leaving us. You've sent her into early retirement."

House's mouth slipped into a grin but he shook his head. "No. Have fun with Jimmy." He slammed the door in her face, leaving her staring at the door with dejection.

Wilson took her hand and they went back to her open door. "I told you Romoly. He won't go to the party." Wilson sighed. "It's late; why don't you go to bed. I'll call you tomorrow?" She nodded and he kissed her cheek. "Good night Romoly."

"Good night James. Thank you." He nodded and she shut the door.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

KNOCK KNOCK. House was slumped on the couch, depressed. "GO AWAY!"

"I've got a key!"

House sighed and got up. Opening the door, House pointed to her apartment and asked, "Why aren't you over there, banging your hearts out?"

"Because she doesn't want to sleep with me…" Wilson paused and House visibly relaxed. "…right now. But I'm working on her and she'll be begging for me."

House narrowed his eyes. "Just go away." He moved to slam the door but Wilson put his hand on it to stop it.

Wilson was getting ready to do something he didn't know if he was prepared to do: he was going to help House. But he wasn't doing it for House, especially after the events of that night. No, Wilson was tired of trying to help House. Wilson was doing it for Romoly. He wanted her to be genuinely happy and Wilson knew she wasn't happy with him and that she wouldn't happy with him. He saw it in the kiss in the hallway; that was NOT how they'd kissed just earlier. He simply couldn't understand why her happiness had to be with House and not someone…saner. But he wasn't about to question it. He felt the need to make Romoly happy, even if he wasn't to be the source of her happiness. "She was upset you didn't want to go. If you really want a chance with her you'd better show up. You do know you wouldn't be in this position if you'd have just told her how much you wanted her from the beginning. You opened your big yap and told her it was physical. The poor thing probably thinks she was just one in a long line of lays but nothing else. No wonder she's moving on."

House knew this but had to have things HIS way and giving in easily wasn't his way. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

"First try to figure out what's going on in your mind. Then go to the party. You just might meet someone who only wants sex. Hopefully she'll be a good distraction." Wilson watched House and was surprised at the amount of fidgeting House exhibited. House was usually stoic as he, on those rare occasions, listened to people. "Because if things don't work out with between you and Romoly, you'll be even more miserable than you are right now and you'll need that distraction."

And Wilson slammed the door shut as he left, leaving House to his thoughts.


	38. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

For the next few days, Romoly and Wilson saw each other every night: either taking in a movie, going to dinner or just grabbing a coffee. The more they saw of each other, the deeper the friendship became and the more she learned about his twisted relationship with House. It was good for them both because the more he learned about Romoly, the more he realized she was perfect for House. The more she learned about House, the greater insight she gained into not only him but into Wilson as well.

That's not to say that the whole experience was a walk in the park. House always found ways of being around when they either left or returned to her apartment; Wilson always picked her up holding flowers. That's not to say House was around to wreck the date; he was just there to "see them off" in his own annoying manner…

Take their second date, the day after their disastrous first one, for example. Wilson arrived at her apartment at around 7:00, holding a tiny bouquet of lavender. Romoly's eyes lit at the tiny beautiful purple leaves and stuck her nose into the center of the bouquet, her eyes closing at the wondrous scent. "Oh James! They're beautiful and they smell amazing!" Romoly, wearing a beautiful sea foam green sundress, delicate silver sandals and thick hair curled and set so the back resembled a cascade of curls, looked quite beautiful herself. And Wilson was taken aback by her appearance.

"Wow! You look incredible! What have I done to deserve such a beautiful woman on my arm?"

"You help little old ladies across the street; give candy to babies; and date beautiful but pathetic, lonely librarians who can't seem to understand that their handsome neighbor can satisfy all their womanly needs?"

Romoly kept her nose in the blossoms but lifted her eyes at the gruff intrusion. House was standing behind them, thumping his cane impatiently. "Don't get all Romeo and Juliet on me; go on your date. I'll be fine…all by myself…" Her eyebrow darted up at this pathetic, whiny routine. "…with just Torchwood to keep me company."

Her eyes brightened. "Great. That should come in handy whenever you're in Britain and you see an alien with a British accent. You'll know just what to do. Well, cheers love." She grinned and, still clutching the lavender, took the snickering Wilson's arm as he led them toward the building's door.

"Now, don't do anything I wouldn't do, like have sex with Wilson."

"But I thought you two were lovers?" She asked, looking over her shoulder as they slowly walked to the building's front door. Her eyes glistened with the next question: "You mean, you were LYING to me?"

House's pulse stopped at the vision in the dress. He couldn't stop the twitching of his fingers to dive into those thick curls and rub her scalp, to feel the softness of those locks just as he'd done not so long before. House returned to the subject at hand as he shrugged but smirked. "I'll not kiss and tell."

Romoly and Wilson stopped in their tracks and turned around. Wilson watched House as he rolled his eyes. "No we have never, are not, nor ever will be lovers. Why does everyone assume we're gay?"

Romoly smiled. While she absolutely didn't condone House actually finding them in bed together, she wasn't against taunting him with the POSSIBILITY they were having sex. Those were two different things. "Because your buddy here has done nothing to dispel that rumor. Let's go Jimmy…if we make it on time we could get the room with the vibrating bed. Did you bring the quarters?"

Wilson took everything in stride. He didn't know what she was going to say but he knew it would be something to get House going. And he was very impressed; she sure did pick the best way to get at him: House had begun fidgeting again. Wilson smiled at Romoly. "Yep. I got five rolls…think that's enough?" Wilson paused. "Do you have the naughty librarian uniform, ruler and sexy bifocals?"

Romoly gasped dramatically. In a stage whisper, she said, "Remember that's tomorrow night; tonight it's bondage night."

"Ok, that's it…" House knew they were jerking his chain but he hated it. He didn't want her talking those things with Wilson…HE wanted to be DOING those things with her. "…just go. You've moved from annoying to infuriating. Go, have your sex; forget about the cripple all lonely and cold all by himself."

Romoly shook her head. "It's not cold; we're in the middle of summer. And you aren't lonely; you've got Little Greggie to keep you company, as usual."

Romoly and Wilson started walking again when House said, "Little Greggie'd prefers you to me. You've got the soft touch."

They didn't stop as they continued out the front door of the building. But House's final comment left an impression on Romoly: it was the first time he vocalized how much he missed her. While deciding not to run with it, she couldn't help feeling something she'd missed for quite awhile.

Hope.


	39. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

In the days leading up to the party, Romoly had warned Wanda that House might be there. But Wanda felt ok…better than ok, as a matter of fact. She'd had more energy than what she'd had in many weeks and she knew that, while she'd miss everyone at the library, especially Romoly, she needed the time to rest and recuperate.

Romoly had hoped House would come; she wanted him to see her with her co-workers; she wanted him to be impressed with how they respected her. But mostly she wanted to show both those men off, as if to say to those who'd written her off unfairly, "See? I can do this; I can and do have men interested in me."

On that Friday night, Wilson and Romoly arrived at the party at around 7:00 p.m. and were amazed to discover the number of people in attendance; well, Romoly shouldn't have been surprised. Wanda had been there a long time.

When they arrived, Wanda immediately caught sight of them and waved them over. "There you are! I was wondering if you were going to be here."

Romoly grabbed her in a hug. "Of course. I wouldn't miss this for the world." She released Wanda and turned to Wilson. "Wanda, this is Dr. James Wilson. Dr. Wilson is…"

"Dr. House's friend, right?"

"That's right, ma'am. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Wanda grinned. _He is cute; it's too bad she doesn't go for this one. _"As in, what? That I used to work in burlesque before I married a preacher? That your friend Dr. House nearly sent me to the hospital on two occasions? Or that I caught Romoly and Dr. House almost having sex here one night?"

Romoly turned bright red as Wilson began to chuckle. "Yep, he told me all of that. House is one who likes to talk."

Wanda smiled then her smile froze as she looked behind them. "And he's about to talk more because here he comes."

Romoly took a deep breath, closed her eyes momentarily then turned around…and started at what she saw. The caned one, just walking through the door, was wearing a suit! His light blue shirt was actually pressed and his mint green and blue matching tie brought out the tinge of olive in his skin. He looked…hot. It was then he caught sight of them and limped over. Judging from the awkwardness of the limp, the guy wanted to be someplace else.

House took a moment to study her and finally realized there was nothing the woman could wear that looked bad. But she really needed to stop wearing the sundresses. They were too distracting. And this one was too enticing: a short, light-yellow seersucker dress with spaghetti straps that tied at the shoulders. House suddenly saw himself standing behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and nibbling on the rounded blades of her shoulders. Her head would tilt back, her mouth within millimeters of his ear; his own body would tingle from her hot breath and moans. His fingers would trace along her shoulders until they came to those straps. Working their way underneath, he'd slowly, slowly pull a string, watching it come undone and fall down…

"HOUSE!" Wilson practically yelled and House snapped to attention. Wanda had seen his glassy-eyed stare at Romoly and knew he was daydreaming; what she didn't expect to see was the look of hurt mixed with the careful concealment of what looked to be genuine love thrown in there, on his face.

House turned to Wilson. "You rang?"

Romoly cleared her throat. "So, you came."

He looked down at her. "I came."

"Why?"

House narrowed his eyes at her. "Why are you asking? I'm here; isn't that important? Now this party can START!" House addressed Wanda. "Well look! There's my favorite…um…" Wanda looked at him suspiciously, almost ready for anything he'd throw at her. "…sexual spectator. Wanda, my girl, have you been dreaming about me ever since you saw me el natural?"

"Noooo…not really. Should I have been?"

"Of course. I think all women should dream about me…" House trailed off then looked at Romoly. "…but it's only the very few that get to experience me."

"Oh boy…" Wilson muttered. "House, this isn't your night; it's Wanda's. And you should be ashamed of yourself. You're the reason she's going into early retirement in the first place."

"Me? Why me? What'd I ever do?"

Romoly suddenly realized what was about to be said and opened her mouth to prevent it but Wanda got in there before she could… "I can't work here anymore because I knew the moment I caught you and Romoly on the couch that you'd be around all the time. I can't work in an unsafe environment like that. It's not healthy for a woman my age."

House immediately looked at Romoly; Romoly looked at the floor; and Wilson watched both of them. Wilson was actually very surprised to see the look of something akin to delight on House's face.

Wanda paid them no regard as she continued. "I knew Romoly would want him to be visiting the library more often. After all, she'd talked a lot about you before, and after, that incident."

House was amazed. Did she want him as much as he wanted her? And yes, he was finally admitting to himself that he wanted her; not just bodily but as a very solid fixture in his life. But without any encouragement from her, House wasn't going to wait around. He was 47 years old; he couldn't afford to dilly-dally anymore. As much as he wanted her, if someone else came along interested in playing his game he was all for it.

House opened his mouth to say something when they heard the clip-clopping of heeled sandals behind them. Everyone turned and both men were struck with what they saw: a tall woman, a couple inches taller than Romoly, with long, straight dark hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck smiled at them, seemingly oblivious to their lascivious gawking. Her pink pencil skirt and matching off-the-shoulder light sweater fit her amazing, trim body like they were made for her. The wire-rimmed glasses she wore only enhanced her beautiful green eyes.

Romoly smiled at the woman. "Hello Diana. How are you tonight?"

For as beautiful and as sophisticated as the woman looked, she was just as nice to boot. "I'm good." She looked at the new arrivals then stuck her hand out at Wilson. "Hello. I'm Diana Rogers. I'll be Wanda's replacement though I hate to see her go." She looked at Wanda who smiled sadly. "She's helped me so much."

Romoly smiled, nodded and turned to the men who weren't paying Romoly any attention. They were still staring at the new arrival. Rolling her eyes, she said, "Boys? Are you there? This lady is introducing herself to you. Do the polite thing and acknowledge her."

"'kay," they mumbled, practically drooling over her. Romoly shook her head as Diana snickered. Pointing to House, she said, "This is my neighbor, Dr. Gregory House…" she pointed to Wilson, "…and his best friend Dr. James Wilson."

"Oh! Doctors! I come from a long line of doctors."

"Really?" Wilson asked, as if what she said was the eighth wonder of the world. "What are their specialties?"

"Yeah, and why'd you choose to be a librarian?" House asked with a look of disgust. "They're so…so…"

"Boring, stuffy and repressed?" Romoly asked.

House grinned and tilted his head, looking from woman to woman, ending with Diana. "Something like that."

Romoly, still shaking her head, was being signaled frantically by someone else and had to leave. Reluctantly, she asked, "If you'll excuse me? I've got a mini-crisis over here." But neither man acknowledged she was leaving. This hurt her but she didn't say anything as she slowly walked away.

Wanda's eyes widened, then she chuckled. "Oh brother…" she shook her head as she watched the scene. _It looks like Romoly might have some competition for these guys…and she's getting jealous! Maybe I should stay after all, just to see what happens…_

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

As the night progressed, Romoly had become increasingly uneasy; not only had both men ignored her but it seemed that House had struck some sort of chord with Diana. All three were inseparable but especially House and Diana: she was hanging on his every word and he followed her around like a puppy. By the end of the night, both had disappeared, having managed to ditch both Wilson and Romoly without so much of a word to either of them.

When it came time to leave, Wilson sought Romoly out and told her he couldn't find either Diana or House. "Lovely. And this party was for her. Where do you think they went?"

Wilson didn't know where they went but he had a very good idea of WHAT they could be doing. He just didn't want to break the news to Romoly. It would've broken her heart.

Still distracted by House's disappearance, she hadn't thought about what they could've been doing. She just wanted to get home; it had been a long night.

Conversation was stilted on the way home as both were still distracted. As they walked through the front door of the building, they heard faint giggling. Neither knew where it was coming from; most likely it was from the 2nd floor. A very amorous couple had moved in a few months ago and their love for each other could be heard throughout the building.

Romoly chuckled. "Oh, the Winthrups are at it again upstairs. I swear, that couple must have sex several times a night, every night. And does Stacy Winthrup know how to giggle; her husband Jason's a moaner." This must've broken the ice because Wilson simply chuckled. Just as they passed the other side of House's door, it flew open and the giggling got louder.

Wilson and Romoly turned around…and what they saw made Wilson madder than hell and Romoly physically ill…

House, laughing, limped outside his door, wearing only his boxers…

And Diana was standing leaning against the doorpost, wearing nothing but a bed sheet, her hair ruffled, her eyeglasses long gone…and the air of sex floating all around. It was more than apparent what they'd done.

To add insult to injury, Romoly even recognized the bed sheet; it was the same one she'd wrapped around herself as she talked on the phone the morning after their first night together.

Neither House nor Diana had seen the other couple quite yet so they continued their playful giggling until House limped back to the door and leaned forward, kissing Diana lustfully on the mouth. Given what they'd obviously just finished doing, it was just the natural thing. But it only compounded the already agonizing situation.

Romoly was close to tears as she croaked, "Well, I'm glad to see this night wasn't a total waste for you."

This amorous couple (and not the Winthrups) broke away and turned around, gasping when they saw who it was. Romoly's eyes quickly filled with tears as her gaze went from person to person, lingering much longer on House. "And it's nice to see you two bonded so quickly. If I'd known this would've happened I'd have hired you a long time ago. It would've saved everyone a lot of trouble. Good night."

With that, she gave them no time to react as she went to her door, unlocked it and slammed it shut, without so much as a goodbye to Wilson.


	40. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

Wilson gripped his hands into fists, his nostrils flaring, his teeth clenching, his jaw grinding. He was madder than he'd been in a long time; perhaps madder than he'd EVER been. For some reason, the hurt that House had dumped on Romoly was worse than he'd ever experienced personally, thereby the anger was even rawer and more painful.

Slowly turning around, Wilson glared at House, who hadn't done anything except stare at Romoly's door; Diana had gone back inside of House's apartment, hopefully to get dressed and out of there before anything could happen. Wilson opened his mouth to say something…then closed it. Opened it again…then closed it. He couldn't form the words. They were too unfathomable, even for a man who'd been in that situation more than once. Sighing for composure, Wilson quietly but forcefully whispered, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

House opened his mouth to answer but Wilson held up his hand. He wasn't about to let him speak. "And don't give me some bad ass answer."

House flared, moving closer to Wilson. "You're one to talk; you two have been all over each other, going out every night. Don't question my behavior as you're flaunting yours in front of me." House shuffled closer, almost sticking his face into Wilson's. "Have you two had sex yet?" House's eyes grew darker with anger at the possibility; he didn't want Wilson touching her like that. "Does she look you in the eye when she comes? Does she pant loudly, breathing deeply as you thrust into her? Do her lips curl when you touch her?"

For the second time in a week, Wilson saw red and punched him in the nose. House reeled back but stood his ground. Wilson was livid: he couldn't understand this man and Wilson usually knew what was going on with him (at least for the most part). But instead of wasting valuable time trying to figure him out, Wilson simply went off on the man…

"Goddamn you! Do you HATE this woman? Every word out of your mouth has been an insult of the deepest, crudest kind. You mock her at her most vulnerable; you curse her choice of professions while at the same time claiming she's a mystery: how a woman like her could be the woman she was? It's when you THINK you've solved the mystery of Romoly Scott that you think you've got all your answers." Wilson kept going, finally hitting his stride…

"Normally, at this stage in the game, you move to another mystery; you have your answer and you're done with the subject. This could be about medicine or who I'm sleeping with at the moment. Instead of moving on, you sleep with her and the morning after you tell her it was only physical. She tells you that's fine but she won't be treated the way you want to treat her and that she expects more than just the whorish box you'd already placed her in. But instead of just dropping her right then and there, you turn up the heat on an oven that DOESN'T EVEN BELONG TO YOU. You begin acting like the jealous boyfriend, a role that isn't yours; you intrude on our lives; you make her life a living hell. What you don't understand is that you are NOT entitled to any of that. You have as much claim to the woman you met tonight," and Wilson pointed to House's apartment, "as you do Romoly. You gave up your rights to her when you flippantly threw her aside. And this gave me every right to ask her out and her every right to accept." Wilson ran his hand through his hair then held his hands in front of him as if to say, 'Back off. I'm not finished.' "You've overstepped your bounds by expecting her to be by the side of the road where you'd left her. But you got mad when she'd moved on. Now just tell me one thing…just what the hell is wrong with you?"

House was angry, his blue eyes flashing. He'd heard enough and wanted Wilson to shut up. So he finally gave in and began yelling at Wilson. "Goddamn it I love her! Is that what you want to hear?" House sighed and face-palmed; he hadn't wanted to say it aloud because he wasn't ready for it to be true. "My leg hurts when she's gone and doesn't when she's around. I HATE that author for what he did to her. I hate HER for taking it." House's voice lowered but never strayed from the power behind it. "But I REALLY hate her for making me like this. And I hate YOU for being with her when it seems too late for me."

Wilson's eyes widened at his confessions. This was something he wasn't ready for. House had never spoken like this before. Instead of questioning it, Wilson was going to encourage it. "House, we aren't dating; we haven't slept together. She doesn't want me. The only "date" we went on was the one you rudely interrupted. We've only continued seeing each other to get back at you for that childish prank. And I see it worked, though maybe a bit too well." Wilson's eyes went from wide to soft when he saw the condition his best friend was in.

House truly cared and wanted her; he just didn't know how to go about it. "House, you're making this so much harder than what it really is. Just SAY the words; why's it so difficult to just say it? How did you finally tell Stacy you loved her?"

CLOP, CLOP. The men turned around to find Diana walking out of House's apartment looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. Her rush to leave was quite evident by her sloppy dressing. "You know what…" She placed an open palm in the air in House's direction, indicating how resolute she was that he stay put and not say anything. "…don't worry about calling me. I heard everything you said and I had no idea it was like THAT between you and Miss Scott. I'd have never done this if I did; I do have to work with her after all. Thanks anyway…" and with that she practically ran out of the apartment building.

"What are you going to do now?"

House looked at Wilson like he was crazy. "You tell me; you're the one with the Ph.D. in women. I didn't really expect…"

Suddenly they heard a loud CRASH and agonized wailing coming from Romoly's apartment. Neither man wasted any time as they found her apartment door unlocked. "Romoly?" Wilson yelled, rushing deeper inside. The whimpering, intense wailing grew louder as Romoly screamed, "AHHHH!"

House and Wilson finally found her in the kitchen…and the condition they found her in made Wilson gasp and House suddenly take control…


	41. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

They found Romoly lying beside a sturdy chair. She hadn't changed from her seersucker sundress so they clearly saw how her naked left leg, bleeding from the tibia bone protruding through the skin, was twisted unnaturally behind her. Liquor bottles, broken into shards, drowned the floor around her in amber and clear liquids that mixed with the bright red of her blood. The oven door handle was hanging from the door, its corner bent, presumably from the impact with her leg.

Romoly's face was white, she was shivering from the quick blood loss and her whimpers filled the empty kitchen. "Oh no," Wilson gasped, moving to sit behind her so he could sit her up to lean against him. He took off his jacket to wrap around her. House immediately became anxious as he bent the best he could beside her.

"I'm not one for stating the obvious but…your leg is broken," House gently ran his hand down her leg, ascertaining the extent of the break. Each time his rough but deft fingers touched her, her eyes squeezed shut as she yelped in pain. "I know it hurts. It's a compound fracture of the tibia. We've got to get you to a hospital; the open wound could become infected." He grabbed a nearby dishtowel, folded it then gentle pushed it against the wound. He looked into her face and his heart beat faster at the pain she was suffering. No matter their situation, he never really wanted her to be in pain, not really. "Wilson, call an ambulance." He stood up, placing his hands on his boxered hips. "I hate to tell you this, but we're going to have to set it. Romoly, it's gonna suck. I've got to straighten the leg then set it. It's probably going to hurt just as much, if not more than, the initial break. But we've got to get your leg straight as soon as possible. Let me go grab some Vicodin to ease the pain." He started to leave but her whimpering suddenly grew louder.

"House, wait." Wilson said, looking behind him. House stopped and turned around, his face reading that Wilson had to make it quick. "Romoly's shaking her head no."

House quickly moved back to the kitchen, where he saw her head moving from side to side. "No Vicodin?" Romoly nodded painfully. "But why?"

She went back to shaking her head as she gasped between wails, "I'm…allergic…to…aceta…aceta…" Romoly struggled to say the long name of the drug. "…acetamin…ophen. I…can't…take…Vicodin."

House sighed and rubbed his face. "Got a bullet to bite?" Despite her pain, her mouth tilted up a bit. "Ok…we've got to do it now. We'll need to disinfect the wound, splint and cravat the leg and get you ready for transport. I'll get everything together and you make the call Wilson. We'll do this as quickly as possible." And everything did happen quickly as Wilson called the ambulance with his cell phone. House scurried around, finding rubbing alcohol, a mop and broom, several ACE bandages, gauze, bandages, a thick hand towel, a pillow from her bed and the only intact bottle of liquor he could find.

When House returned to the kitchen with his loot, he found Romoly nodding off. He knew he had to work quickly. Setting the things down, he quickly removed the heads from the mop and broom: they'd serve as the splints. House handed some scissors and the ACE bandages to Wilson. "Start cutting these into strips for the cravats. I'll disinfect the wound." Looking into Romoly's tired, pain-filled eyes, her barely perceptible nod was enough encouragement. House opened the rubbing alcohol and carefully poured it on the wound, trying his best to ignore her agonized screams. He could hear how worn out she was becoming. "Ok, good girl." He quietly encouraged, placing over the wound as carefully as possible. No matter what he did he couldn't help the pain; it went with the territory.

"Are you ready, House?" Wilson asked from behind her. House nodded quickly. Both men weren't prepared to put this woman in the agony to come but none had a choice; if she wanted to walk properly for the rest of her life it was necessary. Wilson nodded and slowly pulled away from her. Turning to look at her, Wilson weakly smiled. "Sweetheart, we're getting ready to set it. We're going to lay you down." He grabbed the pillow. "Here, lay back. I won't leave you."

"Wait!" House stopped them and opened the bottle of whiskey. "Here: drink this. It will help with the pain." Romoly nodded weakly as Wilson took the bottle, helping her take a fairly large swig of the burning liquor. House's eyes widened at the amount. "Impressive; remind me to put you on my drinking team."

Romoly's lips tipped up but only nodded.

House's pained eyes roamed over her face. When she was down, House leaned over and apprehensively but gently touched her face. "Just hang on." Her eyes widened momentarily as, through the haze of pain, she recognized the extent of that simple gesture. House quickly moved away as he moved to her leg. Looking back at Wilson, House authoritatively snapped, "Hold her down." Taking one last look at her, Wilson secured her shoulders to the ground. House took a quick, deep breath then, with one fluid motion, straightened her leg. She screamed as the pain shot stars behind her eyelids. Without warning, he quickly finished setting the leg. This next round of pain nearly knocked Romoly out. She really was in bad shape, having lost her voice from all the screaming; the only sounds coming from her were agonized gasping and gurgling.

House worked quickly to secure the splints, tying the ACE bandages around the leg above and below the fracture. "House!" He looked up at Wilson's frantic plea. "She's running a fever." House nodded as he studied her glistening, wet forehead. This worried him even further; fever was never a good sign. "Where's the ambulance?"

"I don't know but they're getting the ass chewing of the century when they get here." House stood up. "I'm going to get dressed; don't leave her."

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," he muttered, watching House take off, out the door. "Rom?" He could see her struggling to stay awake.

"Mmmm…."

"House told me he loves you. I probably shouldn't tell you but I don't know when he'll ever say it. You deserved to know, even if the timing was rather crappy. Just give him another chance."

She didn't have time to respond as the front door began pounding. "Stay with me…I'm just going to let the paramedics in. Hold on…"

He got up and ran to the door to find House directing the paramedics to the kitchen. When they got there, they looked at House's handiwork. "What is this?"

"It's a splint. Ever heard of them?"

The taller male paramedic gave him a 'look'; it wasn't a nice 'look' either. "Why's it there?"

House rolled his eyes. "I got bored and splinted her leg for fun. You jackass. She's got a compound fracture of the tibia."

The two male paramedics just looked at each other as they went to Romoly who was drifting off by now. "Lay the board flat so we can get her on there Jason," the shorter, rounder paramedic said as he examined the splint. He looked at the two doctors. "This is very good. Where'd you learn to do such exceptional work?"

"Medical school." House rolled his eyes. "Just shut up and get her on the gurney. We're going to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. And I'm riding in the back."

Jason looked at Wilson, who simply shrugged. "Who does this guy think he is?"

"He's Dr. House."

Both paramedics' eyes opened wide with amazement. "He is?"

"Damn straight. Now, if you don't get your asses moving I'll do something bad. Judging from those scared looks on your faces, you know I can do it."

With that, they nodded, wheeling the by-then passed-out Romoly out the door. House was still bewildered by what she was doing. But he did know this…he knew he was responsible for it. He just didn't know how to handle that new feeling…

Guilt.

What did he do now?


	42. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

An advantage to being the hospital jerk was that people tended to give you whatever you wanted just to shut you up. And that's what House got when they arrived at the hospital. Both House and Wilson got free reign, so it didn't take long for Romoly to be seen. It turned out she had a transverse simple fracture of the tibia. Fortunately the fibula was intact and she didn't require surgery.

Two hours after she was found, Romoly had been x-rayed, fitted with a long cast and given a room for an overnight stay. Overnight stays weren't protocol but House was still worried about her fever, which seemed under control but he wasn't taking any risks.

She'd been given drugs to sedate her so when she awoke, several hours after the procedures had been done, she'd found herself was in a hospital gown, lying in her private hospital room with no one around. Still a bit groggy, she took a moment to get her bearings. It was only when she tried to move her leg that the feelings of earlier came rushing back to her…along with clear memories of what House did for her. She was still mad at him; the anger wasn't going away that easily. But it still sent a shiver of thrill down her spine when she remembered how expertly he took charge. She was truly grateful he was around despite everything going on between them.

Romoly heard murmurings outside her partially-opened hospital room door. Opening her mouth to summon them, she found her voice was still a bit hoarse. Romoly found the nurse's call button and pressed it. Within moments both a nurse and Wilson came striding in, inquisitive looks on their faces. "Are you ok?" Wilson asked.

Romoly nodded but pointed to her mouth, croaking out her response: "My mouth is dry. Can I have some water?"

The nurse smiled and nodded, grabbing the industrial-sized hospital cooler cup from the mini-rolling table sitting beside the bed. Quickly returning with the full jug, the nurse left, leaving Romoly with Wilson who was sitting down. He smiled and took her hand. "How are you?"

"Groggy and my leg's throbbing. Otherwise I'm ok." Romoly coughed to clear her throat and looked down at the large white cocoon that ran the three-quarters of her leg. "Thank you for helping me. I am sorry about what happened."

Wilson shrugged. "Thank House. He did everything. I just stuck around for moral support. But what were you doing in the first place?"

"My guess is she was trying to get drunk," House said from the doorway. He was leaning against the door jam, watching them, trying to determine her condition while, at the same time, ascertaining whether he could come in or not. "Judging from the amount of liquor drowning the kitchen floor I'd say she was trying to drink herself to death. And why were you up on the chair anyway?"

"Oh look," Romoly said drolly, pointing to the new arrival. "It's my knight in shining armor."

House limped further into the room. "I mean it: tell me what you were doing."

She sighed, wishing the grogginess would envelop her and she wouldn't have to answer him. In fact, she probably wouldn't have answered him but she felt an obligation to explain that situation; she felt she owed him that much. "After that little, um…" she coughed, hoping it would make the situation better. It didn't work. She took a long gulp of the cool refreshing drink and continued. "...encounter…in the hallway, I didn't care about anything except getting drunk. It became my mission for the night to get as drunk as possible. But the only liquor I keep in the apartment is what I get for birthday and Christmas gifts, and those are kept in a box in the cabinets above the refrigerator. I'm not normally a drinker so I kept them away for special occasions." Romoly looked at House straight in the eye and said, "I was so mad at you I couldn't see straight: I was marching around, slamming things, fuming internally. I'd catch faint talking outside and knew you two were out there."

House looked a bit frantic. "Did you hear anything?" Wilson smirked at this.

She shook her head. "I heard nothing except the rushing in my head and the force of my cussing underneath my breath. It was during this anger that I made the mistake of thinking I could reach that box. I grabbed the nearest four-legged, non-rolling chair I could find and climbed up. I began pulling the liquor out but that box was heavier than I imagined and I slipped. All the weight of the bottles, plus the weight of myself, slammed into the oven. I remember something, my only guess would be the oven's handle, gouging me and I went down. I think it was the combination of the impact with the oven's handle and the awkwardness of the landing that broke the leg. Then…things got continually blurry but I knew both you and James were there. I could comprehend what you were saying but everything was shrouded with a fog of painful haze. You know the rest." She looked down at her leg again. _This is going to be bad. Months in a cast…_

"How did you know about the acetaminophen in Vicodin?" Wilson asked. He'd been curious about that ever since he found out.

Romoly looked from House, who was practically drooling, to Wilson and back. She didn't want to talk about the reason for this knowledge but figured she might as well have been honest. "After one of the worst beatings Clif gave me, the doctor, as they should, asked if I were allergic to anything. I told him acetaminophen, an allergy I've known about since I was a child, and he told me what he couldn't give me. Vicodin, of course, was one of them. So now I know." Romoly saw House's jaw working in obvious anger. Looking at her body clothed in an ugly green hospital gown, she sighed. "Why am I in the hospital, anyway? Can't I go home?"

"You ran a fever when you came in. You're fine now but House wants to monitor you before you leave. It's just overnight; we'll take you home tomorrow."

Romoly nodded then looked at House. "Dr. House, you're taking me home, right?"

House's eyebrow lifted. "What? And we're back to Dr. House, huh? Well, MIZ Scott…" House was quickly getting mad; by her calling him 'Dr. House' she'd pretty much sent them back to stranger status. "…I'm not taking you home. I'm sure you can do just fine on your own. After all, you took care of yourself when Cliff beat the crap out of you, right? This should be a walk in the park."

And she'd just hit boiling point. "You.." She pointed at him fiercely. "…OWE me." She pointed at herself. "If you didn't feel the need to sleep with her right under my nose this wouldn't have happened and we wouldn't be here."

House narrowed his eyes and limped closer to the bed; Wilson, noting the look on his friend's face, released Romoly's hand and backed up, his eyes widening. House bent down and murmured, "You had no right to get upset; we're nothing to each other, remember? Isn't that what you said?" House leaned back then smirked evilly. "You were jealous, weren't you? You don't want anyone with me. So that's the bee in your bonnet. MIZ Scott, I have no intention of helping you. You'll get along just fine without me."

Romoly watched him and couldn't miss the faint but distinct look of guilt in his eyes. She knew he felt guilty about the situation (something she couldn't have been more surprised about) but wanted everything on his own terms. She had to prevent that. "If I'm so self-reliant then why did you help me? Why did you take charge and set my leg?" She shook her head. "And don't give me that Hippocratic Oath argument. I know you could care less about that; it was something you probably just learned so you could get through medical school. No…you cared; you felt guilty; you KNEW what you've done caused this. Now you WILL help me. Do you understand?"

House didn't know how to take this: she was ORDERING him to help her. Unfortunately he was feeling guilty. His scowl suddenly turned to a mischievous smile, if only to hide is knowledge. "Now, what exactly does this 'help' mean?" He paused. "Does it mean bathing you? Changing you? Wiping your ass?"

_Oh boy…_ she thought, pausing to think about that. Panic instantly set in. _I hadn't thought about that…_ "Um…you know what? You don't have to. I'll just hire someone to help me."

House's tone turned serious. "No, you're right: I am guilty. And I need to make amends. I will be around for ANYTHING you need; in fact, you should move in with me. I'll take very good care of you." House backed away from Wilson, moving quickly to the doorway. "I better get home; I've gotta make room for you. I've never had a roomie before. I'm so excited!" His tone was too animatedly anxious to be taken seriously so Romoly knew she was in deep, deep doo-doo. She waited until he'd shut the door before reacting with a loud wail of disbelief.

"Oh no, James. What just happened? How did the tables get turned so quickly? I was supposed to guilt him into being my slave." Romoly was anxious; this couldn't be happening. SHE was the one with the cast; SHE was the one supposed to have the upper hand. _How did he do that?_

Wilson was trying so hard to keep a straight face. "First of all, you can't guilt Dr. Gregory House into doing anything, trust me. Secondly, Rom, hon, you made the most fatal of mistakes: you showed weakness. And House pounced on that as quickly as a woman at the Filene's Basement Bridal Event pounces on the dresses. You've just screwed yourself into a corner. He's going to milk this for all he can. My only suggestion would be to monitor him carefully; don't let him get away with anything. And above all: don't let this end without telling him you love him. If you tell him he MIGHT reciprocate."

Romoly sighed, nodding. She was too worn out to question how he knew her feelings. She then smiled. "How do you know about the Filene's Basement Bridal Event?"

Wilson chuckled. "Well, I HAVE been married three times; you learn a lot along the way."

Romoly rolled her eyes then sighed. "What am I going to do?"

Wilson smiled. "I'd say you learn how to live with House's snoring: you now have a roomie."

Romoly groaned and dropped her head into her hands. _This is so bad…and I'm screwed big time._


	43. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

And sure enough, the next morning House arrived with a wheelchair and a white plastic grocery sack. He grinned widely and exaggeratedly. "There's my new roomie! Are you ready for a car ride? You can look out the window and watch ALL the sights go by! If you want, we'll open the window and let the breeze blow through your hair." House's voice was several octaves higher, a bit like an overly-involved Shih-tzu dog owner who truly couldn't come to grips that their dog's a pet and not a person.

Romoly narrowed her eyes. "Can it. And I'm not moving in with you; you're going to come over and take care of me."

"Nuh-uh," House shook his head and stopped a good six feet from the bed. His face became grim except for the light in his eyes. House so loved this. "I'm a bad man; I caused this." House's gaze went from her immobilized leg to his foot, which he was scuffing against the floor in a very adolescent manner. House resolutely nodded. "You need help and I'm here to make sure you get it. You can't be in that big apartment all by your lonesome. You need a big strong man to take care of you."

"Ok, I'll hire one. Or, better yet, perhaps you can recommend one to me. I'm thinking lumberjack."

House placed his hands on his hips dramatically. "Now that's enough out of you young lady. Your daddy's here to make it all better for you. You don't need no lumberjack."

"Are you on crack? Stop the…the…" Romoly waved her hand about. "…whatever this is you're doing. It's annoying and really, really weird. I already know you're gonna make my life a living hell so I should just give you fair warning I'm very good at it too. I can defend myself."

"I know you can. Bring. It. On." He limped closer until they were a mere few feet apart. Regardless of everything that had taken place between them: despite his behavior; in spite of her justifiable anger towards him; the raw passion that had brought them together in the first place had never dimmed. It simply moved to the backburner.

If anything, the actions of the last weeks had brought that buried passion to a full boil.

The reversion to becoming virtual strangers didn't matter. His jumping into bed with her new employee mere hours after meeting didn't matter. The sheer volume of unsaid truths closely and jealously hidden, but bursting to break free, didn't matter.

Not one of these excuses, which certainly would've dampened the ardor of the average folk, cooled the electricity between them. It was palpable: that throbbing ache of need sent shockwaves into the ion-charged atmosphere around them, unknowingly affecting everyone around them. The shockwaves sent those charged ions spinning faster and faster, pulling House and Romoly together. The physical results were the heating, and chilling, of spines; the aching of throats with unspoken words and unuttered moans; a clear tugging of two hearts and souls drawn to the other.

If only they weren't so stupidly stubborn they'd never have gotten into this pickle in the first place.

House felt the chills as he inched forward, his eyes devouring the beautiful delicacy that was her face. Oh how he loved that face; he'd seen it so many times behind his eyelids. They were the last images he saw at night; they gave him rest. She gave him rest.

Regardless of their attraction, each had resolved to make the other's life a living hell. Romoly because House deserved it; House because…well…it was what he did. That was how he flirted.

She broke their trance by asking, "So…how am I supposed to go anywhere? I have no suitable clothing!"

House quickly dislodged his mind from the Romoly side of his brain…it was consistently growing bigger and bigger every day…and grabbed the sack from its resting place in the wheelchair. "I brought you some clothes."

Suspicious Romoly opened the bag and gasped when she saw her own articles, including lingerie. She looked up in horror. "Did you go through my underwear drawer?"

House shrugged. "What's the big deal? I've already seen you naked. How are my hands in your naughty drawer any more morally reprehensible?"

"I don't believe this." Romoly shook her head in disbelief. "It's not about the underwear itself; you didn't talk to me before you did it."

"If I had you'd have said no. Besides, you were knocked out anyway."

"Of course I would've said no. And I wasn't knocked out all of the time. I seem to recall a conversation we had. I was lucid. And there had been no mention of drawers…or you…or your hands…or your hands IN my drawers…" She looked up at his raised eyebrow. "…and I don't mean it like that." She shook her head and pulled the objects out of the sack. She was pleasantly surprised to find shorts, a fitted t-shirt, a bra (the expensive silk black one, of course…fitting since the t-shirt was all white) and matching black silk panties. She lifted the undergarments. "And why do I need my $200 set of silk bra and panties for a trip home from the hospital? You aren't getting lucky, if that's what you're getting at."

House rolled his eyes, as if she DARED believe such drivel. "Oh, isn't someone full of herself? I just grabbed the first thing I found. How am I to know what women wear home from the hospital? I'm sorry if I couldn't find the "Home from the Hospital" lingerie set."

"You're a very, very experienced man; you know the difference between the "everyday" and the "special" lingerie. You'd have done just fine."

His forehead wrinkled. "And what's a librarian doing with black silk lingerie anyway? I bet you wear it as you read D.H. Lawrence; I can see you now, imagining you're Lady Chatterley and Oliver is touching you, running his hands along your body, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Tell me: who's your Oliver?"

Romoly's breath caught but she held her ground. Of course she never did anything remotely close to that and she didn't want him thinking any such thing. But the gasp she involuntarily emitted didn't help her cause; the last thing she needed was him thinking she thought of him as her Oliver. It wasn't a possibility; it could never be a possibility. And yet… "Not you."

"I could be."

She gulped; he was absolutely right. He could be. "Leave please. I need to get ready."

"Do you need help?" House's grinned widened as his gaze went from the panties in her hand to her monstrous cast. "There's no way you can lift your leg. You need a big strong man to help you."

"Then call James. He'll be more than willing to help." House looked slightly hurt as she rolled her eyes. "Oh good grief, don't look hurt. You aren't fooling anybody." She sighed. "Fine. You can hold up the leg but you don't have to dress me. I can dress myself, thank you very much."

He took that for the present. If it were up to him, he'd change that in a heartbeat. He came even closer and grabbed her foot, carefully lifting it up. "Make this quick; your leg weighs a ton."

"See what I mean? I need a real man." She muttered as she leaned forward and looped the panties around her ankles, quickly working them up the gigantic leg. House let go of the leg as he watched the progression of the panties. The closer they got to her torso, the quicker House's breath got. She suddenly stopped at her upper thighs, his eyes stopping as well. With an evil grin, she slowly slid the panties up, giving him a quick glimpse of The Promised Land before pulling them all the way up. House groaned and she smiled.

She was going to learn what would drive him insane and use that to her advantage, while protecting herself at the same time, during their time together.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

After meeting with her attending emergency room doctor, Romoly was discharged with her very own wheelchair, crutches and scratching stick, should her leg itch underneath the cast. He'd told her she'd be in the long cast for six weeks. _Six weeks! It's gonna be an eternity!_ With some fancy maneuvering, House got Romoly into the car and they arrived at the apartment building in no time.

Once Romoly was out of the car and in her wheelchair, she looked up at House who was pulling his stuff out of his car. "I don't want to move in with you; I want to be in my own apartment."

He shook his head. "That's too bad lady. You're stuck with me and it if you don't like it…" he looked over her at the conspicuous white cocoon housing her leg, "…you can run away if you'd like but you won't get very far. I've finally met someone I can beat in a foot race. Life is good."

Romoly sighed and covered her face. "Fine. But I'll need to get things out of my apartment. You can't hold me prisoner without my belongings."

House grinned. "Already taken care of that. I've made you right at home. Oh…and we'll be sharing my bed."


	44. Chapter 43

**I thought I would go ahead and change the rating of the story. The reason for the change doesn't happen yet but I wanted to give people plenty of warning. Thanks!**

**Chapter 43**

"WHAT?" Romoly shrieked as he wheeled her inside. "I'm not sharing a bed with you. You're repulsive."

"That may be true but you should've said something BEFORE we had sex. Now whatever name you call me you should call yourself. Your name calling means nothing to me."

"Ok, I'll sleep in your bed if you sleep in the living room."

House stopped the wheelchair just outside his door. Stepping in front of the chair, he bent down, his eyebrow touching the ceiling. "No freakin' way. That is my apartment and my bed, and as long as you're staying here you're sleeping with me."

"You're acting like I was the one who wanted this in the first place. You're sorely mistaken. I never wanted this living arrangement. I wanted to stay in my own apartment; you were the one who came storming through, steamrolling over me like you do with everyone else, demanding I stay with you. Well then, Doctor Phil…" Romoly folded her arms in front of her, a serious look on her face. It was quite a sight to see this beautiful woman looking down on the gruff doctor from her low perch in the wheelchair, her leg stretched out in front of her. "…how do you suggest we solve this? Intervention? Therapy? Arm wrestling?"

"I would suggest naked Jell-o wrestling but I can see that's out of the question…" His voice trailed off. He tried another tactic. "You can't do anything by yourself. You need help, even if you won't admit it."

Romoly's arms fell and she set her hands on her lap. "I'll just call my cousin Angel. She can come hel…" Romoly stopped talking as she remembered. "No, she can't come; Angel and Bobby are in Europe. They'll be gone for a month."

"A month? Really? I had no idea the Philadelphia Police Department paid that well."

"Nah…my Uncle Frank, Angel's father, is in the military, stationed in Germany. He's retiring in a year and wanted them to go over to see them before he returned. And I have no one else." She knew he was right; she couldn't do this on her own. But she couldn't concede defeat; she had to stay strong. If not this would be a long six weeks… a VERY LONG six weeks. "Fine. You can sleep in the bed…" He smiled again, thinking he'd finally won. "…and if you and James could move my futon into your apartment, I'll sleep there."

House's smile faded. That certainly wasn't what he anticipated. "You can't be serious? That's absolutely ridiculous!"

She shrugged. "Why is it ridiculous? I'll be there; you can look after me. You just won't be able to fondle my breasts in your sleep. But I'm confident you'll survive." _I'm not so sure…_ House thought as he scrunched his face in whine mode and she rolled her eyes. There was only so much whining she could handle before she socked him a good one. And she'd do it, too. "Don't even think of whining Dr. House. It won't work."

House looked Romoly square in the eyes. "Ok, let's make a deal. You can have the futon if you stop calling me 'Dr. House'. That really irritates me."

"Really?" She was amazed, yet suspicious, of her small victory. "What would you do if you gave me the futon then I go back to calling you 'Dr. House'?"

He confidently smiled and bent closer, his face only inches from hers. Immediately her eyes gravitated to his mouth. He smiled wider. "That won't happen. You'll never call me 'Dr. House' again."

"You sound so sure…DR. HOUSE."

He watched her mouth as her bottom lip was sucked between her teeth. His own breath caught at the action. "I'm sure, as sure as I am of my medical abilities." He stood back up and turned to his apartment door. Unlocking the door, he turned back around and said, "By the end of your six weeks you're going to be calling me Greg, The Almighty Sex God."

Her head ached at the prospect. "Now who's full of it?"

"Yes but at least I'm sexy." He wheeled her into the apartment. What she saw was nothing new: tossed newspapers and magazines; a lone piece of clothing here and there; miscellaneous medical equipment scattered about. House wheeled her into the bedroom where the biggest transformation had taken place: piles of her clothing, some of her books and other various feminine articles scattered the normally male domain. She was truly amazed that he'd gone out of his way to bring over her clothes. Wheeling herself over to her things and taking a closer inspection, she noted he'd brought her entire underwear drawer and her extremely limited short shorts, baby-doll t-shirts and halters, since she never wore clothes that that. Not one simple t-shirt and yoga pants; not one flannel t-shirt nightgown, her sleep wardrobe of choice.

Glancing back at him, her eyebrow rose as his lips took the same upward path. "Thank you for bringing over my sensible clothes; I'm sure I'll make good use of my…" she picked up an article of clothing. "…black leather bustier. Just perfect for a woman in a wheelchair, don't you think?"

"Gives me something to look at. Where did you get those clothes? Was "Lulu's Luxuries for the Librarian" having a closeout sale?"

Romoly clumsily turned the wheelchair around, nearly wiping out everything in her path with her lethal leg. Once she'd regained her bearings, Romoly nodded. "Yep; I bought out the entire "Even Poetry Pushers Need to Get Their Freak On" section of Lulu's. I actually financed an entire 100-volume collection of classic mysteries. To this day, she's still sending me thank you cards. I'm her hero apparently." She paused. "No, Clif liked the sexy items; personally I hate them. They're very uncomfortable but I'm not good at getting rid of clothes; I'm sort of a clothes packrat. If you want them for yourself you can certainly have them. Just don't let me take it when I leave." She smiled and he rolled his eyes.

And without a second look, she plowed through the room, almost taking House out as she went. "Ok, I want the futon here." She yelled and he limped down the hall to find her pointing to his piano! "We can move your piano over there…" she frantically pointed to a corner crammed with his junk, "…so I can have a perfect view of the TV. We'll need to angle it this way…"

Her voice grew softer as his head filled with haze. And this was the reason he'd vowed never to live with a woman after Stacy left: the woman would simply come in and make a mess of his hard-earned clutter. He really liked leaving things where he wanted without someone with a high estrogen level messing everything up.

House tuned her out as she made plans for their next six weeks. And he began to wonder if this was really worth it. They weren't even going to be in the same bed! _For the time being I'm going to break her…and she won't know what hit her._ But she was a hard nut to crack and he knew he had to lay out some big guns to achieve his results.


	45. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

If that first night together was of any indication, the six weeks to come were going to be long…very, very long.

Too long.

It started off completely on the wrong foot…

Wilson came over and helped move her futon. Much to House's chagrin, she'd taken over, well, everything, barking directions and ordering House to move objects he didn't want to move. Like his piano. House wasn't happy about moving his piano. And he wouldn't stop grumbling about it either…

"Who does she think she is telling me where to put MY piano…I oughtta tell her where she can put it…"

"I can hear you!" Romoly sing-songed from the three-feet away she was sitting.

"This is MY apartment; I call the shots."

"Not if YOU want ME to stay HERE." Her voice rose with each word. They argued about everything: at what angle to put the futon; moving the TV so she could see it better; her loofah hanging from the showerhead; his insistence on questioning every little thing done.

Wilson had only been there an hour and he'd already had enough. The constant bickering was really getting out of hand so he finally decided to referee…

"Would you two just shut up already? You two make the Hatfields and the McCoys look like golfing buddies. If this keeps up for the entire six weeks, I'm not coming over at ALL. If I wanted to be subjected to ceaseless whining, complaining and bickering I wouldn't have cheated on my first wife."

House pointed at Romoly as she still pointed to House's overflowing closet. "But SHE wants…"

Wilson held up a hand, the grimace on his face mean and exasperated. "Why is she here in the first place?"

"Because he won't let me go back to my place, he insists I stay here. I don't know why; I'm just across the hallway."

House's face fell in an exaggerated gesture. "But it's my fault she's like this. I need to make amends."

Wilson folded his arms across his chest. He clearly wasn't buying anything House was telling him. "House, you have no idea of how to make amends. I don't know what you're doing but I don't want to be a party to this and I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense. I'm leaving."

Wilson started toward the door as House turned to Romoly. "Now see what you've done? If you hadn't insisted on having your way he wouldn't be leaving." Wilson stopped and turned around. How dare he talk down to her like that?

Romoly looked at House then her face quickly fell and she started crying. "I…am…soooo…." Her voice was pathetically weepy and gravelly. Then she started hiccupping as tears ran down her face. "I'm…just…(HICCUP)…trying…to…(HICCUP)…"

House rolled his eyes; he did NOT want a weepy female staying with him. Holding up his hands, he stepped back. "Alright, alright. I get it. Just stop crying." He shook his head and turned back to the closet. Romoly sniffled then looked at Wilson, who was watching her. She slowly winked at Wilson whose eyes grew large as his mouth broke into a wide grin.

She'd manipulated the manipulator brilliantly! Wilson coughed to clear the snicker from his throat then moved closer to the bickering couple. "You know what? I think it would be best if I stayed a bit longer today. After all, I think someone's gotta run interference, if only just tonight."

And it did go smoother, though House didn't completely stop grumbling; he simply didn't know how. And that was ok…Romoly was wordlessly manipulating him. If he moved something because he didn't like it there, she'd follow behind and put it back. This was actually great practice in the wheelchair for her. Both Wilson and Romoly got a kick out of everything she did.

By the time Wilson had left, House and Romoly thought they'd reached a silent agreement about everything.

As they would soon find…they were wrong.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

The next morning, Romoly woke up at 7:00. She was typically an early riser and liked to start the day early. Though she wasn't going to work, she couldn't seem to break her routine.

Her eyes were alert as they followed the early morning shadows dissolving around the room. The orientation of House's apartment made it such that the early morning light filtering into the living room was bright and inviting. In the stillness of the morning she heard snoring coming from House's bedroom. Grinning with anticipation, Romoly grabbed the remote control she'd stealthily hidden from House the night before and turned on the TV, blasting the volume to the highest it would go.

"WHAT THE HELL?" His gruff shout widened her grin.

Romoly heard his feet land on the floor and the loud THUMP of the cane that followed. THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP. Within moments a bedraggled House was standing in the doorway to the hall in his pajama bottoms, his graying hair sticking out every which way, his eyes fighting to focus. "What the hell are you doing?"

Romoly almost laughed aloud. She knew it wouldn't be smart if she did so she managed to keep her mouth shut. "I'm just watching The Early Morning Show. A little news is good for you."

"Are you deaf? Can't you turn that thing down?"

"HUH? I'm sorry I can't hear you."

"JUST TURN THAT THING DOWN! I'm trying to sleep."

"I'm sorry…did you say you were trying to weep? I can help you with that."

"Yes you can…" he mumbled as he limped to the television and turned it off. He turned back around to leave when she snapped the television on again, quickly turning it to MTV. Ironically, Van Halen's "Jamie's Cryin'" was playing. House turned around again and saw a giggling Romoly. He tilted his head and smirked just a fraction before it went back to a sneer. "Oh…isn't that ironic? You've made someone else cry. Who'd have thunk it?"

"Good morning sleepy-head," Romoly cheerfully said, switching off the TV. It was no longer needed; she got what she wanted. "Did you sleep well?"

"All except that rude interruption of that sex dream I had about you. It was quite fun: you were spread eagle across my bed, completely naked. I was the pirate wearing nothing but an eye patch, a knife between my teeth. Except I wasn't wearing the eye patch on my eye. Wanna know where it was?"

"Not particularly. Do you really think my idea of great sex is with a pirate? Au contraire my dear House; I've always been partial to chess-playing, pocket-protector wearing, Steve-Erkel-type nerds. Underneath those taped glasses and dorky clothes beats the heart of a lovesick, sex-starved tiger."

"Ok, that's enough…" It was his turn to hold up a hand. "It's way too early to talk about sex dreams."

"But YOU brought it up!"

"We were talking about MY sex dreams; I don't want to hear about yours. I mean, I'm your dream incarnate; to hear you talk about wanting something different is shameless and insulting. How am I supposed to react?"

It was too early in the morning to address such an issue. "I need help this morning. I think I can take care of myself while you're gone but I need help getting ready."

"Do you want me to bathe you? Does that mean I get to touch your naughty bits?"

"Noooo…" she said slowly, shaking her head and sitting up straighter. House's breath caught as he finally noticed her sleep attire: the tank top clung to her breasts like a second skin, revealing large, rounded nipples. His mouth watered for a taste; his fingers ached, remembering the feel of them on his fingertips, the globes of her breasts as he cupped and kneaded them. She caught him staring and looked down, realizing how alert she was that morning. Grabbing the blanket, she quickly covered herself and he groaned. "…I can wash myself. I just need help in and out of the tub."

"Oh…does that mean I can see you at least naked?"

She shook her head again and, once again, he groaned. "I can do it without flashing you."

"But why so modest? You weren't modest before."

She pointed to the wheelchair just outside her reach. "Can you get that for me?" He grumbled as he shuffled to the chair and, setting it up for her, wheeled it closer to the futon.

"Here," House held out his hands for her to take. She looked at him suspiciously and he rolled his eyes. "Oh come on. You really think I'm going to do something to you?"

"Nooooo but I'm wearing nothing but a tank top and panties. I don't want you ogling me." He shook his head but waved his hands anyway, as if to say 'Just come on.' She sighed, nodded and, taking his hands, pulled herself up.

And she was right to worry: House stared at her ensemble, growing harder by the moment. She maneuvered around into the seat, sitting down but the cast was so heavy she couldn't lift it herself. Looking up at House with a sigh, she pointed to it. "Can you help? It's too heavy." _This was going to be harder than I thought. Not only do I have to get this thing up and around but I forgot how much I do…and don't…want to have Greg help me._ House nodded and lifted the cast, carefully setting it into its chair brace. She grabbed the blanket and threw it over herself, much to House's continued annoyance.

"You ask me why so modest?" He nodded. Romoly skillfully maneuvered the wheelchair around him; she was getting very good with the wheelchair. Stopping she looked over her shoulder, regarding him with a look. "Because you lost all rights to see me naked when you slept with Diana."

Romoly rolled toward the bathroom when House called, "Then what about as your doctor? Have I lost doctor rights?" She stopped and looked down, refusing to look at him. "You aren't as independent as you think. You need help. Why do you think you're staying here?"

"Because you're hoping to get lucky?"

House grinned but it left quickly. "Perhaps. Or maybe there's another reason."

Romoly looked up and back over her shoulder. "But, knowing you, it's simply self-fulfilling. You never do anything for the good of the other person; it's always to satisfy either some curiosity of yours or to prove you're the greatest doctor in the world. I think the world will end when you do something truly for the sake of the other person."

House was growing upset as he limped toward her. Passing her, he turned and stopped about six feet in front of her. "I think you'll find I'm full of surprises. Now listen lady," his voice lowered and, moving towards her, he put his hands on both arms of the chair to lean closer to her face. She held his gaze with confidence. "I don't care what you think my intentions are. The fact remains that you need help. You might as well not fight me on this." They stared each other down as realization for her situation flooded her face.

She'd always known she was in dire straits. But Romoly was fighting him every step of the way. She couldn't forgive him for what he did with Diana; she couldn't forgive herself for falling off that chair and neither could each forgive the other what they felt for each other.

Romoly sighed. "Ok, fine. But you are my DOCTOR. If I see anything even remotely different cross your face, you will regret it. Got it?" Romoly hoped she sounded authoritative; in reality she was shaking. Sitting naked, in a tub, in front of House was one sort of vulnerable; being naked, in a tub, wearing a cast in front of House was a whole 'nother kettle of vulnerable.

House simply nodded once and moved to the back of the wheelchair and Romoly dropped her head into her hands. It was truly too bad she didn't see the smirk on his face as he wheeled her to the bathroom; she'd have definitely vetoed the bath if she had.

_Well, look on the bright side Romoly,_ she tried to coach herself, her apprehension growing deeper. _At least he won't have to wash you. Could you really handle it if he did?_ "Nope," she faintly whispered, too low for him to hear.


	46. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

And the following events set the tone for what would probably happen over the next few weeks.

It was bath time. And the bath had been even more embarrassing than she'd ever allowed herself to think possible…

"I don't think the wheelchair is gonna fit in here," House said as they approached the bathroom.

Romoly sighed and rubbed her forehead; House was making everything so difficult by fighting at every turn. Why couldn't he just let her be without being difficult? Perhaps that was the $64,000 question, one that philosophers, psychiatrists and scholars alike pondered. The Great Universal Question, if you will. "Fine. Just start the bath and help me up. I'll let you know if I need any help."

"Oh honey, you're gonna need help. I might as well stay close by."

"NO!" She screamed and House jumped back. At that moment she wished he'd just leave her alone; she was starting to get crabby. "Just get the bath started and help me up. I can do the rest."

"Fine." He threw up his hands; he knew she couldn't do it and he didn't want her hurting herself anymore. But he also knew he couldn't do anything about the situation; she was dead set on having her own way. Sighing he moved around the wheelchair that was still parked outside the bathroom and started a warm bath. Turning back to her, he eyed the blanket across her lap and reached across, as if to remove it, his eyes never leaving hers. The mixture of apprehension and anticipation inexplicably excited him and he threw the blanket aside, revealing long legs; trim, muscular thighs; the sky blue cotton bikinis and the skin tight tank top. She was so delicious to look at, his lips tingled with hunger.

She was watching him watch her, the hungry devourer in his eyes. Romoly resolved to be firm; she needed to stand strong. She quickly held up her hands, indicating for him to pull her up.

House did as she wordlessly bid his eyes taking in the vision standing wobbly before him. Once she was straight, he had to maneuver her towards the tub. Releasing her hands but never taking his eyes from hers, House shifted his hands to her arms, his fingertips traveling over the tank top down in the valley of her breasts. Romoly's breath caught as they whispered underneath her breasts to her waist, tracing the slim, smooth lines, finally halting his right hand on her waist and his left hand moving to her lower back, splaying his fingers against her. "Follow me," he whispered, his hands tingling from their contact with her smooth, sweet flesh.

At first Romoly couldn't move; her feet wouldn't pick up because her brain had short-circuited. Quickly righting itself, she stepped forward, as he stepped back, with her good right leg, then placed all her weight, plus the weight of the cast, on that good right leg as she lifted the left one. It wasn't as heavy as she anticipated but it was incredibly cumbersome and unyielding. Despite the weight of the burden, the only thought running through Romoly's mind was if she could even think straight after their contact.

When they got halfway into the bathroom, she stepped away from him, who was standing with his back to the running tub, but kept her head down as she said, "I can take care of it from here. I don't need your help."

"Yes you do."

Now she was getting upset; she wasn't thinking straight and she needed him to leave. At that very moment. "NO I DON'T. Don't tell me what I need or don't need; you don't know anything."

"I'm a DOCTOR; I know how this works. Why can't you let me?"

"Because you don't want to help me; you want to prove something. And I will not be made a fool of so you can prove your point. Now LEAVE."

He narrowed his eyes. "Fine." He slammed the door as he left and she was still braced for another onslaught of…something. It didn't seem to matter that he'd left the room; the residual tenseness was too powerful to simply drop. Still trembling by the encounter, her anger and his quick departure, she was distracted as she limped to the tub. Leaning over she turned off the half-full tub and quickly stripped off her clothing, just barely able to lift the cast to slide the panties off. Romoly was quickly getting tired from the extra encumbrance.

Sitting on the tub with a sigh, she was grateful it was built in such a way her left leg could hang over the side and not against the wall. She moved and straddled the tub's edge. "See, DOCTOR HOUSE, I CAN do this by myself," she muttered defiantly. Just as she was swinging her leg up to rest on the edge, her foot in the water-filled tub slipped and she flipped over, landing face down in the water. Quickly removing her face, she involuntarily moaned loudly and House was in there in a flash, where he found her spread eagle, her good leg hanging over the side of the tub, her butt in the air.

She never felt so humiliated as House rushed over, taking a few minutes to stare at her perfect form, in all it's nakedness. Of course, he'd have preferred if it she'd flipped UP but he'd take whatever he could get. Actually, now the longer he studied her, the better the view became.

Gathering himself, he let his anger cloud his lust. "Damn it! I said you needed help. You could've really hurt yourself. Here…" House's hands moved down her back to her sides, lightly gripping her as he pulled up to a half laying/half sitting position on her right side, her injured left leg against the side of the tub. She tried to cover herself as he lifted her leg to awkwardly prop it against the side of the tub and her foot against the bathroom wall. But she ended up flashing him anyway.

And House took full advantage of the peepshow in front of him, standing up to get a better look. Romoly, who couldn't look at him during the process, finally met his eyes. Quickly recognizing what was happening, she squeaked as she placed an arm across her torso and the other across her chest. "See, THIS is the reason I didn't want your help; I'm not someone for you to ogle."

"See, THAT was the reason I couldn't leave you. Just what do you think you'll…" but his words were stopped short when Romoly grabbed the shower curtain and pulled it closed, effectively cutting him off.

"Go away…let me be humiliated in peace."

House shook his head, thoroughly annoyed and aroused at the same time, and turned toward the door. "Get used to it sweetheart; I'm helping you in and out of the tub for the next six weeks." His voice rose to a much louder pitch. "And call me if you need help with those hard-to-reach areas. I have very long fingers." He shut the door with a snap.

"Yes you do…" Romoly muttered and, with nothing else to do, dropped her head into her hands as she burst into tears. It was at that moment she realized how much trouble she was in; she couldn't stay away from him. _But did I want to?_ She couldn't honestly give herself the answer she wanted.

The rest of the morning was fairly uneventful as Romoly was smart enough to grab the towel and cover herself so he could help her out of the tub. This only set him in a foul mood and he left shortly thereafter, resolving to shower and change at the hospital.

As the morning continued, she quickly recognized that she couldn't do anything by herself. She needed help, but wasn't about to tell House that, especially after claiming she would be alright by herself.

Instead of caving and looking weak, Romoly located an agency for a nurse to come a few hours every day, without House's knowledge. In fact, they had a nurse on standby that came out around noon. Romoly decided the best way to handle the situation was to pretend she didn't need help to House, while at the same time someone there when he wasn't.

And that day it worked out beautifully: by 3:00 that afternoon, the nurse had left and Romoly was settled. They'd even done a bit of work around the apartment, making the place neater. They were going to fix dinner but there wasn't a scrap of food in the whole place; they'd just have to order in. She was alone with her thoughts, which inevitably came back to House, until he arrived home at 4:00.

He found her sitting up on the futon, fully dressed and watching Judge Judy. House was blown away by the neatness of the place, a perfect contrast to what he was expecting to find when he got back. House was expecting to have to clean up and do things he figured she wasn't able to do. "What's going on here?" House asked, his eyebrows rose at the neat state of the apartment.

"Welcome home honey." She greeted in a sing-song fashion. "Did you have a nice day at the office? I'm sorry if I haven't made dinner but you don't seem to believe in food do you?"

House narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't right but he couldn't put his finger on it. "It was fine. Why are you so cheery? Have you been dipping into my nitrous oxide?" He paused and looked around again. "And the apartment looks too nice. Ok…what's going on?"

Romoly just stared at him blankly. "Why dip into yours when I have my own?" He shook his head and stepped closer to her. "Did you need something Doctor?"

He was still peeved he didn't find her helplessly and hopelessly glad he was home but simply shook his head. "No; I just want to know what's going on."

"What makes you think something's going on?"

"The place looks immaculate; you must've had someone help you. It's too much for a woman in your condition."

"What are you talking about? A woman in MY condition…you make it sound like I'm either pregnant or about to die from some incurable disease. I'm fine."

House still wasn't convinced of her "fineness" (at least, not "fineness" in the context she used) but just let it go. But he was going to keep a very close eye on her.

Meanwhile Romoly was quickly brainstorming, looking for ideas that could help her situation. And she got a couple of really good ones, hoping they could make the situation easier.

Either that or really piss him off.

Either way it was sure to be a whole lotta fun.


	47. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

As that first week drew to a close, Romoly decided it was time to put the first phase of "Operation: Bringing Down the House" plan into action. It began with a phone call to Wanda…

"Hello?"

Romoly smiled into the phone. "Hi Wanda. It's Romoly."

"Oh Romoly dear! How are you doing? How's your leg?"

"How did you know?"

Wanda chuckled. "I may not be working there but I've got an ear to the ground. I know what's been going on. I heard about Diana sleeping with Dr. House…" Romoly gasped at this; Wanda held her breath.

"How did you know?" Romoly quietly asked again.

Wanda sighed. "The day after it happened, Diana called me. During those weeks I trained her, we got to know each other. We've been keeping in touch. Romoly, she felt just awful; she didn't know about you and Dr. House; if she did she wouldn't have done it. I truly think she's not that type of a girl. I actually blame that man; he must have something that either repels or attracts women, no in-between. He repelled me; he attracts you girls."

And, however reluctantly, Romoly agreed; she didn't think Diana was that way. It only made her disappointment and hurt all the worse. Romoly cleared her throat. "Well, she shouldn't feel awful; there is no Doctor House and me. If there had been it wouldn't have happened." Romoly paused. "And did you know I'm staying with Dr. House?"

"Now that was something I DIDN'T know. This is really twisted and backward; what happened?"

Romoly related the events and Wanda whistled when Romoly was done. "This is even more twisted then "General Hospital"…and that's saying a LOT. Hon, why are you making everything so difficult? Just tell him how you feel."

"You don't understand; Greg runs from emotions. If he knew how I felt he'd be out of there quicker than I would expect him to say "pink is pretty". HE needs to be the first to say it; HE needs to control that, not me. But he won't know that it's really me doing the controlling. I'm going to make him crazy. He'll drive me nuts in return but it's gotta be done, the stallion has to be broken. I won't ride him otherwise."

Wanda giggled. "From what I saw he was quite magnificent."

Though Romoly was pretty much thinking the same thing, she was still surprised to hear it. "WANDA!"

"What? Can't I look? And it wasn't like I was snooping; you weren't hiding anything." Wanda paused, sucking in air as she remembered what she saw. "Just because I married a preacher doesn't mean I don't know good horseflesh when I see it. Honey, you've got yourself a well-built stallion."

"But he's not mine."

"Why not? You two were doing so well. What happened?"

"We slept together."

Wanda paused, waiting for more. It didn't come so she prompted her. "…aaaannnddd?"

Romoly sighed and rubbed her eyes. "And he told me it was just physical."

Wanda whistled. "That jackass. My guess is the idiot doesn't want to be or is incapable of being happy and he wants to make the rest of the world just as miserable as he is and wants to be so he pulls stupid stuff like that." Wanda paused and suddenly wondered something. "Hon, you know, he can't hold you hostage. You can leave at anytime. If it's causing you so much pain and trouble, why are you there in the first place?"

"Well, that's why I called you. I'm going to make him realize what he has to do."

"Oh Romoly," she sighed. She really didn't want her to sink to a new low by fooling herself into thinking she's capable of something she clearly wasn't. Women of every age and time have thought they could "make" a man do something when they couldn't…and the results were sad and disastrous. "You've got to stop this: he's going to have to come around at his own time, his own pace. And that's assuming he will."

"But what if he doesn't?"

Wanda was clearly shocked by her behavior. This didn't sound like the Romoly she knew; the Romoly she knew was confident, bold and wasn't about to wait for an egotistical, jerky jackass to "come around". "What is with you? This is not "Romoly" behavior. Romoly is so much better than this whiny, pathetic woman I'm talking to. What's come over you? What about his friend, Dr. Wilson? It sounds like he's a great guy. From what you've said he'd take you in a heartbeat."

As Romoly listened, she knew she was sounding pathetic. She also knew Wanda was right.

Yet Wilson simply wasn't the one she wanted.

What Wanda didn't know was that Romoly had a motive for her actions: manipulation. She was going to manipulate the crap out of Dr. House…until he broke. That was all she wanted; she wanted to see the stalwart, stubborn jerk break down, begging for something he could've simply said he wanted before. It was way too late for a simple, "I love you." Now he had to beg, plead, grovel, anything to drop him several pegs below her. Then she'd reward him greatly.

Mean and wrong? Probably. Emasculating? Absolutely. Necessary? Most definitely.

"Do you really want to know why I'm doing this?"

Wanda sighed. "The truth would be nice." And when Romoly finished explaining the reason, she could've sworn she heard Wanda smiling over the phone. "Ok, Romoly, now I understand. You're now my hero." Romoly giggled. "But I must warn you: from what I've seen and heard, Dr. House is incredibly shrewd and a keen observer of human behavior. If you aren't careful he's going to see right through you. Besides, what makes you think he won't be trying to manipulate you himself? I imagine he's a genius at manipulation. Just watch your back; you don't want to blow this."

"That's why I'm being subtle. My manipulations are such that he won't know he's being manipulated. For example, he thinks I'm doing everything on my own while he's gone. I tried that; it's too hard. I know I can't do it. But HE doesn't know I can't do it. No, I've hired a nurse to come in on weekdays while he's at work and look after me. He must think I'm Wonder Woman or something because the apartment is spotless and I look like I've worked all day. The more manipulation I do, the more he'll be eating out of the palm of my hand."

Wanda, still not sure about this whole thing but intrigued nonetheless, said, "Ok boss. So, what's the first item on the agenda?"

"I want to throw Diana back into his face."

Wanda didn't know whether to giggle or gasp; that could be dangerous. And she didn't know if it was just plain mean or what. But that didn't mean she wasn't curious. "Are you sure? Diana's a good girl and she still feels horrible about what you've done. Please don't hurt her along the way."

Now that Romoly thought about it, Wanda was right; the girl didn't deserved to be treated with humiliation. Still…if she knew what was going on and agreed to it willingly, that could be even more delicious…

"But what if you talked to her, explaining what we were going to do, the reason behind it and that she can go hog wild with it, do you think she'd help?"

Wanda thought for a moment. "She might. It all depends on what you had in mind. So what's the plan?"

"When I'm finished explaining, you tell me if you think she'll go for it. If she will, great; if not, I'll think of something else. I don't want to trample on anyone to get this done; I just want Greg to be the only casualty of my operation. And it won't be so hard…"


	48. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

With the blessing of Wanda, plans were quickly set in motion. Romoly spoke with Diana and, the next day, Saturday, the first phase of "Operation: Bringing Down The House" had begun…

KNOCK, KNOCK. It was 11:00 in the morning and someone was at the door. House was noodling around on his guitar some 20 feet from the door but, being the lazy dope he was, refused to get up and answer it. Ignoring it, hoping it would just go away, he continued strumming the guitar.

KNOCK, KNOCK. "ANSWER THE DOOR HOUSE!" Romoly called from the bedroom as she put the finishing touches on her wardrobe.

"I'm busy."

"ANSWER. THE. DOOR. NOW!"

House sighed as if what she was asking was the greatest burden in the world and carefully set the guitar down. "Answer the door! Pick up my shoes! Put me in the bath! But don't you dare touch me!" He muttered underneath his breath. It had only been a week but he was already getting frustrated with the situation. It killed him every time he couldn't touch her. His need for her was so strong he wasn't sure if he could handle it…but he just couldn't let her go either. It was like he needed the pain she caused. Her pain was as close to pleasure as he could afford and he simply couldn't let _that_ go either.

House picked up his cane and limped toward the door. He turned the knob and was struck dumb by what he saw there…or rather WHO he saw there.

It was Diana. And she was confidently smiling.

"Hello Dr. House. How are you?"

House quickly recovered and looked her up and down. Unfortunately for Romoly, if there was one woman who rivaled her for best looking body, it was Diana. And she looked positively amazing that day: hip-hugging tan shorts that accentuated her impossibly-long, tan legs; a see-through light-blue peasant shirt that plunged to reveal a hint of cleavage and outlined her padded bra underneath; her long, dark hair pulled up behind her and clipped sloppily, but chicly, with a clip; her tiny red toenails wiggling in her flip-flops.

House quickly recovered. "Have you come back for seconds?" He asked with a smirk. He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "Come back later, say, around 4:00. I'll put her down for a nap and then we can par-tay."

Diana's eyebrow lifted. It was a good thing Romoly warned her about his behavior; otherwise she would've slapped him into next week. Still…given what she knew about House and Romoly, she was absolutely floored by his suggestion. Her voice took on a monotonic, sarcastic tone as she said, "Wow, Dr. House, since you put it that way let's just drop right down on the floor and go for it." She leaned a bit closer, growing more and more irritated with him by the moment. _Why on earth did I sleep with this jerk? Ok, ok: it was the eyes…and the outfit…and my currently pathetic love life. So I was desperate; now look where it landed me? _Careful not to reveal any of these thoughts, she asked, "Aren't you taken?"

House narrowed his eyes and wanted to scream, "YES, IF ONLY SHE'D CALL ME BY MY FIRST NAME!" but Romoly came rolling into the living room, interrupting him with "Is that Diana at the door?" Romoly asked as held her sweater and handbag in her lap. She smiled when she saw Diana. "Hey girl. Ready to go?"

Now House was completely confused, his mind filling with a jumble of questions all at once, like: Did this mean that Romoly and Diana are friends? Why are they friends? Where are they going? Were they going to talk about him? And what was that Romoly was wearing?

He watched her as she rolled closer to Diana, a huge smile on her face as if they were two best friends, going shopping or…whatever it was that women did. He gulped as he spied Romoly's outfit: a pink spaghetti-strapped tank top, tan cargo miniskirt (and mini probably was the wrong word: micro seemed to fit better. That skirt was nothing but a strip of fabric. He figured that if he leaned further to the right he could catch a flash of her goodness underneath) and the lone flip flop on her right foot. Romoly's hair was braided in pigtails and her lips bore a light sheen of tender pink. She looked absolutely delectable. And House became even more upset when, as Romoly bent down to pick up her handbag that had slipped down, he spied the thin spaghetti-straps that criss-crossed her back. It was clear she wasn't wearing a bra; it always made him uncomfortable whenever she went without it, wherever it may be.

And she was going out in public without one…

He wouldn't stand for it.

"Sure, I'm ready to go. Which movie are we seeing?" Diana caught the look House was giving Romoly and smiled wider. _This was going to be so…much…fun._

"I think it's the one with…"

House interrupted. "But you aren't wearing that."

Romoly turned to House who was still looking at her shirt. She looked down then back at him. "What? What can't I wear?"

House leaned over and pulled on the strap in the front, thereby catching a glimpse of her breast. His heart raced faster but he kept his cool as he said, "This shirt. You aren't wearing a bra."

Romoly looked at him. Normally, if a guy told her she wasn't going to wear something in public she would get mad. But she understood House. And she wasn't going to get mad; she'd just get even. Her eyes roamed his blue t-shirt and jeans and, pushing aside the inevitable yearning in her heart, which always came whenever she saw him in those…oh, hell, whenever she saw him, she smirked up at him. "You aren't wearing a bra either but I'm letting you go out in public." Diana snorted and House, unable to control himself, smirked despite himself.

"Are you two SUDDENLY friends? A week ago you were telling me I couldn't see you naked because you caught us; now you're bosom buddies." They're eyebrows raised at House's meaning and he grinned. "I know a way we can all be friends again. Just let me put on some Barry White; I'll grab some liquor; you girls put on your bestest lingerie…we'll get to know each other much, much better."

Now Diana gasped. She certainly wasn't that type of girl and she wasn't about to be talked to like that. But Romoly held up her hand. "House, my pendulum doesn't swing that way: I'm a strictly heterosexual, one-partner-at-a-time kind of gal. I don't know what you do in your spare time; frankly I'm certainly not interested in finding out either. But Diana and I are both librarians; we both work at the same library; and we've found we have a lot in common."

"Yeah…you've both slept with me. I bet you're just going to compare notes about me."

"Everything's always about you, isn't it?" Diana asked, her head shaking with disbelief then turned toward the open door. "Good bye Dr. House. And don't wait up for us…we just might meet a set of geeky CPAs with asses of steel. Romoly may never come back. Ta ta." She looked at Romoly and swept her hand toward the hall to indicate they were leaving.

Romoly sweetly smiled up at House and rolled out the door, leaving House tapping his cane on the floor and his face scowling after her.

House didn't like the looks of this and resolved to discover what was really going on. Grabbing his leather jacket, he walked to the front window closest to the parked cars and watched as Romoly carefully got into the back. He waited until the girls were settled into Diana's Honda Pilot before exiting the building. Limp-running to his crappy car, he began the hot-pursuit of the hot chicks.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

"Is he following us?" Romoly asked as she looked out the back of the Pilot's tinted window.

Diana nodded vigorously as she watched out the rearview mirror. "Yep. He's probably dying of curiosity and wondering where we're going and why."

Romoly nodded herself, giggling as she imagined his harried pursuit of the two women. "It may not sound like it, but this is a perfect way to get back at him. He needs to think that I've moved on…that I might not need him as desperately as he thinks and that by spending time with you, I've made what you two did not so important to me. When I distance myself and continue with my life, he'll realize he can't distance himself from me and will come begging and crawling back. I figured that by bringing you back in, he'll see that I can be happy without him."

"Are you sure that he's even going to care? Perhaps he'll just move on when he sees you've 'moved on'."

Romoly shook her head. "But you don't know Greg. He's like a dog with a bone: no matter how long he's had that bone, if it still interests him, he'll play with it until the day he dies. And I'm cutting him where it seems to hurt the most: his pride. Oh…perhaps we should let him follow us and let him THINK we're comparing notes about his sexual performance. We'll say things like "He did this to me" and "when he touched me HERE" and talk about how bad it was." Romoly grinned as they made a turn toward the mall, his blue car not that far behind. "But we need to choose our location well; we've got to make it public and make it loud."

Diana grinned and concentrated on the road. They continued making plans all the while their unsuspecting victim was chasing them hurriedly. The more they talked the more they realized they really liked each other and enjoyed the other's company. It did help that, the day before, they got through all the awkwardness between them and that they were on a common mission. And after their conversation with House, Diana realized she couldn't have been with House; he was too much for her.

But he seemed just right with Romoly.

They pulled up to the mall and Diana got out to help Romoly out, all the while the two vixens kept an eye on their prey who'd parked a row over and several cars down from them. When Romoly got settled in her wheelchair, Diana pushed her toward the mall, still chatting about what they wanted to do.


	49. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

House watched the women leave and commenced following, enjoying his view of Diana's tail as they walked. He could hear them chatting; about what he didn't know. "Probably about me," he muttered as he watched them roll into the lower level. Not surprising to House, the first stop was the Victoria's Secret.

Now he was between a rock and a hard place: he certainly didn't want to go into Victoria's Secret but he was dying to hear what they were saying and see what they were buying. "Oh, what the hell," he murmured as he slithered inside, trying to hide his tall frame behind the mannequins. It didn't work; he only looked like a dirty old man as young teens glared at him and whispered behind their hands, moving away from the scruffy old man. As they fled, throwing him dirty looks, he narrowed his eyes and waved his cane at them.

House finally spied Diana and Romoly over by the garters. His pulse increased as Romoly held up a lacy red and black number that would've left nothing up to the imagination. It was really too bad he couldn't hear their conversation because it was quite the doozie…

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

When Diana and Romoly arrived at Victoria's Secret, they went straight for the raciest, naughtiest lingerie they could find. "Ok Diana," Romoly said, smiling as she found some pretty garters and bustiers. "We need to start pulling out some naughty underwear and act like we're asking for opinions, though from the looks of this stuff I won't have to pretend. I love Vicki's."

Diana nodded and turned to the lingerie drawers. As they were "shopping", they'd heard a gradual increase of murmuring, even over the frightening loud store music. They discretely peeked around and saw that it was House causing all the commotion, as he was trying to look inconspicuous behind store mannequins. In reality he was scowling at the teenagers who clearly looked frightened of him.

"Oh…we so need to do something, like yell fire or something," Romoly said, turning the see-through red and black baby doll gown in her hand around. It clearly left nothing to the imagination.

"I know!" Diana giggled and nodded, playing up the theatrics for the benefit of their spy. She put a hand over her giggling mouth, as if she were shielding her words from being heard. "I've got it. Let's pay a couple of teenagers to complain to the store manager that Dr. House is a sex fiend who wants them to watch him model women's lingerie."

Romoly gasped with excitement. "That is absolutely brilliant!" Romoly giggled and unfurled the baby doll, placing her face right up into it as if demonstrating she could see through it. "Then, when House protests, points to us and says we know him and can vouch for him, we'll look stupid and say we don't have any idea of whom the pervert is. He'll be escorted out of the store."

Diana nodded and giggled. "This should be awesome. Now, who should we pick?"

Romoly demonstratively shrugged, enough to tip House off that she's "unsure" about the baby doll. She turned around and dug into the lingerie drawers. "See the girls on my left?" Diana lifted her head and looked at the drawer immediately to Romoly's left, her eyes picking up on the teenagers.

"Yes."

"They were over there by House. I bet they wouldn't mind making a cool $25 each to do it."

Diana whistled. "$25? Each? Why so much?"

Romoly smiled. "I never spend money on myself. And this is the best gift, besides lingerie, that a girl could give herself."

Diana nodded. "Good point. I'll ask these two." Discretely Diana scooted around Romoly's wheelchair closer to the girls, all the while keeping her attention still on the lingerie drawers. Diana opened the drawer nearest the girls and pulled out the first thing her fingers touched, a baby-blue bustier and matching garter. Turning to the girls, she asked, in a stage whisper she was sure House could hear, "Excuse me? Can I get your opinion on something?"

The girls turned to the older woman and smiled. Diana was beautiful and always commanded attention wherever she went, male or female, young or old. These teenagers, who already saw Diana as someone they wanted to emulate, were all too willing to help. The taller one, a brunette, smiled happily. "Sure."

The other, a blond and obviously her best friend, nodded and smiled. "Sure."

"Great. Listen," she turned her back toward House and held up the lingerie. "My good friend and I…" she pointed to Romoly who smiled. When the girls saw she was in a wheelchair with a broken leg, their eyes filled with pity. Diana continued, trying so very hard not to laugh. "…want to ask you a favor. Now, this is important so listen to me carefully."

They nodded intent on her speech. "First of all, I want you girls to act like you're on a secret spy mission, where the person you're spying on cannot know you're spying on them. Be discrete about this but tell me: can you see that man over there, by the window, trying to hide behind the half-naked mannequin?"

They both automatically answered in unison "YES" without even looking behind them. Both Romoly and Diana were impressed. The Blond began speaking. "He's that perv checkin' out all the girls. Someone should really say something to him."

The Brunette nodded, shivering a bit. "Yeah; he's so…old and weird."

Diana nodded. "Listen, we know him personally. He's harmless, really. He's not a pervert but he is spying on us." She put the lingerie on the counter and stepped back a bit, holding her chin in a contemplative gesture. Romoly rolled closer and began fingering the delicate fabric, as if she were suddenly interested in buying it. She turned to Diana and motioned for her to bend down, as if she wanted to tell her something privately. Romoly discretely handed Diana the money then lowered her voice as she bent over the lingerie. "He's spying on us because he's a pest. Now, would you both do something for me?" They nodded, their total attention on the woman in the wheelchair. "Great. I want you to find the store manager and tell her about the dirty old man who made you uncomfortable. She'll take you to him and ask, "Is this the man?" You girls nod and say something like, 'Yeah, that's him. He asked me to watch him model lingerie for him. He was totally gross and weird.'" Romoly shook her head and opened another lingerie drawer, pulling out a see-through tan thong. "He'll deny it and the manager will ask if you want to call security. You tell her no but ask her to ask him to leave. The old guy will protest but, in the end, he'll get thrown out."

Diana nodded with Romoly and discretely passed the money to the girls. "And we'll give you $25 apiece to do it."

The girls grinned. "Agreed." They said in unison. "When do you want us to do it?" Blondie asked.

Romoly smiled. "How about right now? There's no time like the present."

The Brunette giggled and shook her head. "Ok."

"We'll just be right over here, shopping. We can't look guilty so don't mention or look at us."

"Cool."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

House was watching the whole scene and grumbling to himself. They weren't doing anything exciting except shopping for underwear, asking the annoying young girls for their opinions. Just as he was walking toward the exit, the two girls who'd been talking to Romoly and Diana, along with what looked to be the store manager, marched closer to House and blocked his exit.

"Excuse me, sir? Can you wait a moment?" The woman turned to the clearly-angry girls standing beside her. "Is this the man?"

Blondie and Brunette nodded in unison as Brunette said, "Yeah, that's him." Blondie pointed to him and took a tiny step forward. "He asked me to watch him model women's lingerie. He completely wigged me out, the perv."

House narrowed his eyes at the girls then looked around. They'd drawn a crowd, with women of all shapes, colors, sizes and voice-volume whispering and huddling. "What? What are you kids smokin' now? I did nothing of the sort."

"Then why are you hanging out here? Are you looking for your next feather g-string? Try Frederick's." Brunette said. The whispering intensified, the women looking him up and down.

House looked over at Romoly and Diana, who'd stopped shopping to see what the commotion was about. House pointed his cane over the heads of the crowd to Romoly and Diana. "There! Ask them! They know who I am!"

Romoly and Diana looked at the crowd in mock confusion, then each other.

"Ladies, can you come up here a moment?" The manager motioned for them to come over.

"Sure," Romoly said, swinging her chair around.

When they got to the crowd, the manager asked, "Do you know this man?"

Romoly and Diana looked him up and down then shook their heads. "No…we've never seen him before. Why? What did he do?" Romoly asked, ignoring the death glares from House.

"Are you smoking what they're smoking?" House pointed to the girls, who were doing an amazing job of holding back their giggles. "Of course you know me; both of you have SLEPT with me." A collective GASP went through the crowd at his audacity.

Romoly narrowed her eyes and rolled closer. She had the advantage because of the wheelchair: how could someone have the audacity to say such a thing about a woman in a wheelchair? It was unheard of and tactless, not to mention heartless and just morally wrong.

"How DARE you speak to us that way, especially my friend here," Diana said. "We were minding our own business, just shopping here because my friend's been cooped up with her broken leg, and this man has the moral INDECENCY to say such a hurtful thing."

"You tell them," Romoly said, her outrage in her voice. She was giving the performance of her life.

House rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about? Of course you know me! I'm not a perv!"

"Listen, Mister," the manager was getting fed up with this whole situation; she just wanted the crazy old man out of her store. "We're talking about YOU here." She turned to the women. "These two girls here claimed he was acting inappropriately toward them."

Romoly looked up at Diana, who was still confused. "Diana," she said and she looked down.

House huffed and tapped his cane. He was angry and a bit confused. _Why did they deny knowing me? Are they mad at me? Why would they be mad at me? Or else…maybe they're IN on it! I did see them talking with the girls. HOLY SHIT! They ARE in on it!_

Romoly's countenance changed as a thought quickly dawned on her. Romoly's eyes lifted to the manager as she said "Wait a minute!" She looked at House, pointing her finger in his direction. "I HAVE seen him before. He WAS talking with those girls and waving his cane. The girls looked scared and got away as soon as possible. You know if I had known he was a pervert I would've alerted you sooner."

The manager turned to the girls. "Do you want us to call security for you and have him escorted out?"

Blondie looked him up and down but he wasn't paying her any attention as he was too busy plotting to kill his one-legged flat mate. Or else just get her back real, real good. "Nah. But if you'll ask him to leave that would be ok."

"Yeah," Brunette nodded, standing her ground against the bad man.

The manager turned to House. "Ok, sir, I'm gonna ask you to leave the store and not come back."

House threw up his hand and cane in disgust. Throwing one last lingering look at Diana and especially Romoly, House said, "Fine. But I never get this treatment at Frederick's. They understand my needs. I'm never coming back here again." And the crowd cheered as he left…but Romoly and Diana suddenly got scared.

That last comment told them he knew what they did. They suddenly didn't feel so confident anymore.


	50. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

House was livid; how DARE they do that to him, publicly humiliate him like that? It was beyond…

Too shaken for his usual instant brilliance, House found a nearby bench, hidden behind a fichus tree but with a view of the store (he wasn't letting them off THAT easily). Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed up his security blanket…

"Hello?" The male voice that answered sounded winded.

"Why are you so winded? Have you been cataloging your hairbrushes again?" House asked as he rolled his eyes. Sometimes he was really worried about his best friend…

"I'm having sex."

House sighed with disappointment. Jimmy really needn't lie like that; it only made him sound pathetic. "Oh Jimmy-boy, you don't have to lie to me. I know you aren't having sex."

Jimmy gasped quietly but just loud enough so that House heard him, making him grin. "What makes you say that?"

"That gasp just gave you away." House paused and watched a beautiful woman with a great ass walk by, her interest in "the dirty old man" apparent on her face. He grinned at her and watched her sashay by as House continued. "Jimmy, I know you schedule your sex: you probably only have coital relations between the hours of 9 p.m. and 1:00 a.m., Thursday - Monday. You also only have two positions and I assume you aren't very creative with them either. So don't think you can lie to me."

Wilson silently pondered yet another painful method of killing House…it brought the total to 1,655. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Romoly strikes again!" And he went into detail what happened, from the time Diana showed up at the apartment to being kicked out of Victoria's Secret.

"What's Romoly doing with Diana? I thought she didn't want to have anything to do with her after you boinked Diana."

"Apparently not; they've kissed, made up and are shopping for lingerie."

Wilson suddenly had a flash from the night she moved in with House: the wink. He remembered her winking at him over her shoulder. He knew then she was manipulating, playing House at his own game…and she is doing it now. His heart swelled with pride for the librarian. Wilson was suddenly so grateful to be the best friend of a jackass. It made for great entertainment when said jackass got his comeuppance. And this time Wilson was not going to help his friend; he suddenly felt too much loyalty to Romoly to betray her like that. He was going to help her but not directly; he needed to appeal to House's common sense and logic. Wilson was going to remain neutral and be House's voice of reason.

As usual.

Wilson shrugged, though House couldn't see him. "I'm sure they've become friends. House, I bet Romoly's bored, cooped up all day in the apartment. She wants to keep in contact with her workplace. Is there any evidence they were even involved in that situation at the store? What makes you think they were?"

House face-palmed. "Are you really THAT dense? I saw them talking to those girls before they confronted me. Of course they're a part of it; I bet they're probably even the masterminds. It would be just like that one-legged wench to pull off a stunt like that."

Wilson, determined to pull him off their scent, asked, "When you saw them talking, were they just talking? Or were they doing something else?"

House didn't want to talk anymore about this; he needed to quickly plot his revenge. "What does it matter Jimmy?"

"Because I have a growing need to know what healthy women do as they shop for lingerie. Do they compare bra sizes? Do they finger the merchandise?" Wilson dramatically lowered his voice. "Do they touch each other?"

House's breath hitched as he remembered the fingering and got jealous all over again; Wilson grinned. _Anything to get the guy's mind off of what happened,_ Wilson thought. "Diana held up some filmy little number and heard her ask for an opinion. They were talking and gesturing to the lingerie."

"Right." Wilson deadpanned. "And it's for that very reason you have every right to suspect they were plotting your humiliating downfall in the middle of the Victoria's Secret. Everyday I'm continually amazed at how well you exhibit your deductive reasoning; it's quite astonishing really."

"Shut up. Now it sounds like you're taking their side."

"No I'm not taking their side. I'm just asking why you're getting upset. The girls were teenagers, right? Teenage girls don't know which end is up. They're so bonkers they clearly didn't know that the scruffy, middle-aged, pill-popping, cane-waving asshole lurking behind the g-strings was simply spying on two women as they shopped. I mean, anyone could've seen that one from a mile away." House growled; he just KNEW Wilson was rolling his eyes. He could hear it.

"And your point would be?"

"House, this isn't a conspiracy; they weren't plotting your downfall. You're usual egotism is assuming a lot by thinking they actually care enough about you to do something like this. Let it go."

House, still absolutely convinced of their guilt, sighed. He realized he had to do this on his own; he wasn't getting any help from his girly best friend. _He probably even sides with them, the girly turncoat._ "I get it; you're not going to help me, are you? You know what? I can do this on my own; I don't need any help from you." SMACK. House closed his phone and looked at the store, just in time to see the women departing. He picked up his cane and slowly limped behind them, watching the swing of Diana's hips as she pushed Romoly's wheelchair. While he loved the rhythm of her walk he couldn't help comparing her to Romoly…and realizing Diana didn't hold a candle to Romoly.

Not by a long shot.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

_Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?_

Music suddenly came from Romoly's handbag as her phone rang, leaving Diana in stitches. "Shut up," she warned Diana in a low voice, which only made her laugh harder. That wasn't her normal ring tone; House must've changed it. _The annoying jackass._ And, once again, she suddenly remembered the reason she was doing all this to House.

_Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?_

"Shut that thing up, will ya?" Diana snorted.

Romoly rolled her eyes and opened the phone. "Hello?"

"Rom? It's James."

"James? How are you? What's going on?"

Wilson chuckled nervously. "Why must something be going on?"

"Because you haven't called me since I moved in with House. The only reason you'd be calling me is if this were either a social call or you have news, good or bad. I have a very distinct feeling this isn't merely a social call…you sound like you've got something important to say."

Wilson face-palmed and sighed. It certainly wasn't a social call. "Rom, House called me just a few minutes ago. He's madder than…well…anything you picture to be really, really mad. He's that mad."

"I know; the scowl he had when he left…" she turned around and found House walking about 20 feet away, the same scowl blurring the handsome man that he was. She looked him square in the eye, silently telling him she knew he was there and that she knew he was mad. His face gave away absolutely nothing. "…and the scowl he's still wearing confirms that. Why are you calling me?"

"Because he's plotting his revenge; he's going to "make you pay", so to speak."

Romoly looked up just as they were approaching Sephora. "Thank you, James, for your concern. Is there anything I can do?"

"Just be on guard; House is notorious for suddenly appearing, usually without warning, without shame or remorse. Since it's quite apparent you're going to do whatever you're going to do, I can't stop you; but I want to say that I'm on your side and if you need anything please let me know. I want to do whatever I can to make it easy on you. But please don't say I didn't warn you."

Romoly smiled into the phone; he truly was a great friend. After they said their goodbyes they wheeled into Sephora and tried to ignore House as he stood outside, glaring at them through the window.

Whatever he was going to do would have to wait until they finished their shopping.


	51. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

Fifteen minutes later they walked out of Sephora to find…House gone. They looked everywhere, scanning the crowds, ignoring the looks of pity at Romoly and the looks of interest to both women. House was nowhere to be seen. Romoly had a sudden pain in her stomach, very similar to that churning sensation one has just before they jump off a cliff attached to a bungee cord. Or the sensation one gets when the school bully is marching in your direction, hands fisted at both sides, fire shooting from their eyes as they're looking to beat the living crap out of you. Yeah….it was like that.

"Diana, I think we're in deep trouble," Romoly muttered when the churning subsided a bit…but only a bit.

"Umm…" she slowly said and looked down at the terrified woman in the wheelchair. "What do we do now?"

"There's no WE about this; it's me. I'm the one up shit creek without a paddle. I brought this onto myself; I'M the one who needs to take it like a woman. You better take me home; I might as well get this over with as soon as possible."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

They pulled up to the apartment building but didn't see House's car. Looking around, Diana got out and went around to the back seat to help Romoly out.

When they got inside the apartment building Romoly let herself into the apartment with the key House gave her when she moved in. The apartment was quiet…too quiet.

But it smelled amazing, like someone had been cooking. Or at the very least reheating.

That couldn't be right…unless…

"Are you sure everything's ok?" Diana asked, apprehension written all over her face as she looked down at Romoly.

"Of course it's ok; why wouldn't it be?" The familiar gruff voice interrupted the stillness of the apartment and knocked both women back in shock. House had come from the direction of the kitchen, wearing a tea towel on his shoulder and an apron around his waist. And Romoly thought she'd fallen into a magic porthole, ending up in the Twilight Zone. "Oh and you're just in time for lunch; we're having barbecue ribs, coleslaw, potato salad and cake for dessert." He grinned massively, almost as if he'd been anxiously awaiting their arrival so they could partake in the dinner that he'd "worked so hard" to make. He wiped his hands on the towel and looked at Diana. "And is Diana going to be staying for lunch? Is that ok with her mom?" He gestured toward the phone. "If you need to call her, feel free. We have plenty of food."

Romoly finally fully understood the phrase "struck dumb"; she didn't know what he was doing but it was freaking her out nonetheless. "House, what are you doing?"

He looked completely baffled. "Why do you ask that? What does it look like I'm doing? I made lunch. Come on; you're growing women and the ribs are getting cold."

Romoly slowly turned to Diana with her mouth hanging open; Diana's eyes were wide with fright. She looked at Romoly. "You know what? I forgot I've got…um…I've got…" she searched for an excuse but couldn't come up with one good enough so she said, "…I've got a, um, a THING, I need to take care of. Yeah, that's right." She looked at her naked wrist. "Oh, and would you look at the time! I'm running horribly late. I'll call you later." Throwing a backwards glance of fright at House, Diana vacated the premises as soon as she could move her feet.

"Well, wasn't THAT rude? And after all my hard work…" House tsk-tsked in shock and disapproval. He looked at Romoly. "Well…are you coming?"

She swallowed; she didn't know what was going on but she needed to talk with the only person that could provide the answers to this mystery. First she needed to get away long enough to telephone the correct party. Sitting up straighter Romoly smiled and nodded. "Yeah but shouldn't I wash up and use the toilet before coming to lunch?"

House nodded with certainty. "Of course." Romoly turned the wheelchair toward the hallway leading to the bathroom, with House's voice following behind… "And make sure to use SOAP this time young lady; water alone won't get your hands clean you know."

"Yes Mom!" Romoly shouted as she rolled to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Pulling herself onto the toilet as quickly as she could, she did her business and got back in the chair. Starting the water, she gave a preliminary washing before quickly pulling out her cellphone and dialing.

"Hello?"

"James! Make this quick: what does it mean when House…" and she explained everything that transpired. When she was finished he gasped, almost as if holding in a chuckle. She placed the phone on her shoulder and began scrubbing her hands, just like House told her. "So?"

"It's all a part of his "master plan"; he's switching gender roles. You pulled a male prank; he "cooks" lunch, thereby doing something female in retaliation. He's got a bigger plan in mind; this gender reversal is simply the foreplay, so to speak." BANG, BANG! House was knocking on the bathroom door.

"Aren't you done in there? The potato salad is getting warm! If you wait too long, it'll go bad!"

"Did you get that?" Romoly whispered.

Truthfully Wilson was trying his hardest to hold back his laughter; he couldn't believe…yet he could…what House was doing. It was just all too much… "Yes I did. Let me ask you: do you like rough sex? If this "foreplay" is going to play out how I think it will, the sex or, in your case, the culmination of this "foreplay", is going to be rough. It's only during the "after glow" that feelings are finally settled upon. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Romoly nodded but House knocked again. "What are you doing in there? And why didn't you answer me? Are you doing something you shouldn't in there?"

Finally understanding what was happening, Romoly played along. Raising her voice above the hand washing she said, "I'm OCD when it comes to hand washing. I have three more washings to go. I'll be out there."

She heard House grumble but not say anything as the THA-THUMP footsteps left the door.

"Nice save." Wilson said. This whole thing was just too delicious; he just wished he could be there to witness it. "You'd better go; I don't want to be caught, tried and convicted of treason against Dr. Gregory House. Good luck and keep me informed; I'll help you along the way."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

She was so glad she had Wilson as a source. She knew she was "cheating", or so House would say. But it was survival of the fittest in this world. And if it hadn't been for Wilson, she'd have gone insane because to say it was an interesting lunch would've been an understatement. Romoly actually thought that Rod Serling was narrating through their dinner. THAT'S how weird the entire experience was.

Still…just because she was shocked out of her socks didn't mean she didn't go along with it either. Remember, it was survival of the fittest…

After finishing with the phone call and the bathroom, Romoly rolled out to the living room, where House had set up lunch on the coffee table. She stopped in front of the coffee table and watched him apprehensively but, when he saw her, stood up from the couch and went to her. "Here…let me help you to the couch." _At least he'd taken off that stupid apron,_ she thought, still wondering if House had been abducted by aliens and his body switched.

She looked at him silently as she lifted her arms for him to lift her. He moved closer to her and, leaning down, he placed his hands on her sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts.

Without her satiny confinement, even through the tank top she felt his touch acutely and shivered involuntarily. He grinned, a sparkle in his eyes, but didn't say anything as his strong arms lifted her and helped her to the couch, fussing over her like…well…like a wife fusses over her husband. "Are you comfortable? What would you like to drink?"

"I'll take some of that moon juice you're sippin'," Romoly said, watching him limp to the kitchen. He came back carrying a beer and a glass of milk. She reached for the milk but House shook his head and handed her the beer.

"Nope…you get the beer. I need the milk for my strength."

Her eyebrow raised; she wanted to hear the logic behind this one. "Oh really? What about me? I'm a growing girl you know."

"You've had a hard day at the mall; you deserve to unwind with a beer and the remote." He "gratefully" handed her the remote. "Have at it." He looked at the meal and threw his hands up. "Oh, I forgot the bread! How can you have ribs without bread? It's just not possible." He shook his head and limped back to the kitchen.

And that was how the rest of the lunch went; House asked her if she had a good time shopping, if she'd gotten any sales. He even sounded excited, wanting to see what she bought.

And Romoly? She played up the gender-switch to the hilt: she stuffed her face; grunted instead of talked; demanded more food; turned the television to a Sylvester Stallone action picture; stuck her hand down the waistband of her miniskirt. Best of all, she had some great belches in there too.

At one point, when she was actually watching the Stallone picture, Romoly was asked by House if she wouldn't mind helping with the dishes. "Isn't that YOUR job?" Romoly asked, her eyes never leaving the lean, mean body of Rambo. "Why don't you do it?"

House stopped in front of the television, towel on his shoulder, and, with hands on hips, sighed. "Because I slave away all day at my job while YOU sit on your lazy can drinking beer and flipping through the television. All you do is sit around being grumpy. I can't take any more of this."

Romoly, knowing he was baiting her, decided to give him what he wanted: she'd get a bit peeved. She sputtered, pretending to get upset. "But I'm recuperating; I can't work right now."

House shook his head; he was going to go in for the kill. "While we're here, since we NEVER talk anymore…" House was overly dramatic and even through in a sniffle there. She had to say, he was very good at this… "…you never pick up any of your clothes…" House began ticking off things on his hand. "…you never lift a finger to help with the cleaning; you ALWAYS leave the toilet seat up. And I want more sex from you. Don't you find me desirable anymore?"

She shook her head. "Not since you've stopped shaving. How am I supposed to kiss someone who feels like a Brillo pad?"

House gasped and, with a huff, flounced out of there, leaving a smiling Romoly. Picking up the cordless on the way out, he went to the kitchen and dialed. The person on the other end answered. "Hello?"

"Mother? I'm coming home. I can't deal with living with this person anymore." He sniffled. "She's simply UNBEARABLE."

"House?" Wilson tried to make himself heard over House's sniffling. "What's going on? And why are you whining?"


	52. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

House answered back to the phone, "SHE…" House pointed to Romoly who narrowed her eyes at him. "…is acting just like a…a…a MONSTER! All she wants me to do is cook…and clean…and do the laundry. And there's no gratitude; she just sits on her perfect, scrumptious little ass and orders me around. I can't take that kind of pressure. I think she should move out."

Wilson grinned; he couldn't believe the wonderful luck he was having. _And it isn't even my birthday,_ he thought. "Well, it _is_ your apartment. Perhaps you really should send her packing." Wilson paused. "You know, she really should stay with me."

And this calmed House immediately; that was the LAST thing he wanted because he knew Wilson would simply try to seduce her and, in her weakened condition, she'd fall for it. Women were suckers for men like Wilson.

House narrowed his eyes at the phone and turned away from Romoly, who'd been watching the entire exchange with growing curiosity. "Absolutely not. _You're_ the reason we're in this situation in the first place."

"Hardly. You slept with Diana."

House lowered his voice. "But YOU asked her out."

"And YOU told her, the morning after of all times, that what you did didn't mean anything to you. You don't think she shouldn't have been hurt? I was nice to her; you treated her like garbage. And I can only assume that's when you fell in love with her. You wouldn't have gone to so much trouble merely to assuage your curiosity or even to prove a point." Wilson paused. He was going to advocate for Romoly as much as he could. "And do you REALLY think that by manipulating her…or whatever you're trying to do…is going to make her come over to your side? She's a very smart woman and she'll see right through you. How did she react to you in an apron?"

"But SHE started it!" House's voice raised several pitches so Romoly could catch what he was saying.

"House, Romoly doesn't do anything she doesn't need to; everything has a valid reason. When you get to the root of why you THINK she did what she did…and I'm still not convinced she was responsible for that outburst in Victoria's Secret…she just doesn't seem capable of it…then you'll have the advantage. Just manipulating for the sake of manipulating won't get you anywhere. When you discover this you'll be a very smart man indeed."

House skirted the question and raised his voice even more for good measure. "Ok, ok, Mom. I'll make it work. I'll take her back…AGAIN. But you know that she's just going to keep demanding and harping and bringing me down. My delicate sensibilities can't handle much more of this."

"House…" Wilson said with a warning in his tone.

"Goodbye Mother." CLICK. He grinned, sighed dramatically then turned around to find that Romoly has pulled herself into her wheelchair and was rolling down the hall. Intrigued, since he figured it was his inalienable right to know everything about everyone, he hung up the phone and followed her down the hall to his bedroom, where her clothes were kept. "Just where do you think YOU'RE going?"

"I'm moving back to my apartment." She said over her shoulder as she rolled to the dresser to pull articles out. "I can't live with a man who whines, complains…and wears an apron. I need a REAL man." She smirked as she kept her back to him.

He huffed and marched-limped to stand beside her, never once getting out of character with the "housewife" bit. "Now listen here. I will NOT allow this to happen and you aren't leaving."

Romoly looked up. "And what can YOU, a lowly MAN, do about it? How are YOU going to stop me?"

House suddenly didn't know what came over him. Perhaps it was her assertiveness; perhaps it was her independence…or perhaps it was his growing need for her, one that seemed to consume him every day. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to reach over and grab her face, bringing her mouth to his. She fought him, straining against his shoulders but his grip was too much. He overwhelmed her as he stuck his tongue in her mouth, exploring, mapping the terrain and tasting the beer and her desire for him on her tongue.

And so help her, she wanted him. That last week had been so difficult, with him in the other room…on a bed...a really BIG bed as she remembered. And it was during these times it didn't matter that he broke her heart when he slept with Diana; it didn't matter that he was a selfish bastard with no regard for even himself. Romoly simply knew she wanted him.

But she couldn't give in just yet. That would mean he'd win. She couldn't allow that.

Romoly finally pushed him away, with a loud SMACK of lip suction, and wheeled backwards to get a better look at him, the effect of the kiss just as evident on him as it had been to her. She regained herself and narrowed her eyes. "Men. They think that all we need is a little pickle-tickle and everything will be just fine in the world. It's not ok and I will not stand for anymore."

That was not what House wanted; he wanted her there, with him. What he didn't know was that she had no intention of leaving; she was simply going to tighten the reins around him, making it such that he was under her control. She was Geppetto; he was Pinocchio…before he came to life and went crazy, of course. House just didn't know it yet.

Romoly threw open drawers and pulled out clothes which were immediately taken from her and put back in the drawers by House. "You aren't going anywhere. Besides, what would your NURSE say if she found you gone tomorrow after I leave for work? She'll be most disappointed. Irene I think her name is, right? Tall, blonde, killer set of knockers. You didn't tell me she likes to water ski; I'd love to see that body in a string bikini." Romoly stopped in mid-air while still holding a small stack of t-shirts. Slowly setting them on her lap, she turned the wheelchair to face him, only to find him standing about three feet away with his arms crossed, his foot tapping and his eyebrow raised. _Damn it; how'd he know that? He even knows her name and her favorite hobby. How DOES he do that?_

"Wondering how I know? You can't fool me; it's exactly what I would've done. That's very good young lady; I'm impressed. But you can't hide anything from me. You aren't going anywhere and you're keeping the nurse." House thumped his cane a couple of times as he walked towards the doorway leading to the hallway. He suddenly stopped and turned to Romoly, who'd followed his retreating form with her eyes. "The New American Gladiators starts in 15 minutes; wheel your pretty little ass out there and watch it with me." He eyed her closely then limped out of the room.

She stared, shocked, at his retreating form. That wasn't what she expected and she couldn't believe he knew. She couldn't help but smile though; despite what he said, she was very impressed with him. Now she knew she'd have to step up her efforts…and a plan began to form to do just that...

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

The rest of the afternoon was fairly quiet, with the crippled duo watching television. After dinner House noodled around on the piano, not really paying attention to the world around him as he was lost in thought. He was centered on Romoly and what made her tick; it was clear she'd gone through a lot with Clif but before that? He knew nothing. And she knew nothing about him. Ending the concerto he was mindlessly, but flawlessly, playing, he pushed away from the piano and looked down the hallway. Romoly had gone to his bedroom to spread out and take a nap. He was suddenly in the mood for "20 Questions".

THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP. His foot/cane falls echoed through the strangely quiet apartment as he went to the bedroom, finding the door ajar. Peeking inside, he found Romoly sitting up against the headboard, writing in what looked to be another black-and-white composition notebook. She looked intent on what she was writing…

…and the natural nosiness that followed House everywhere suddenly began whispering to him, the sound of which was music to House's ears: _You've gotta get a hold of that book; you have to know what's in it._

_You're absolutely right…_

House, sucking in a silent breath, pushed open the door suddenly and practically shouted, "Are you awake?"

Romoly screamed and jumped, in only the manner a deliberating person would have on their task at hand. Quickly snapping the book shut, she tucked it under the pillow behind her. "I am now. What do you want?"

_I want to read that book…_ Pretending not to have noticed the book, House came further into the bedroom and, sitting down on the bed in a manner similar to a father would in the event of lecturing their child on the impropriety of whatever they did wrong, House shrugged. "You never finished that story about Clif and his fourth novel. I want to know what that novel was about."

_Not to mention that novel you've got hidden behind you…_


	53. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

Romoly looked at him suspiciously; she knew he had an angle. He always had an angle. She just needed to catch up with it before it got out of hand. Like that whole gender-switch thing. She should've put a stop to it earlier but it was too much fun. She figured she'd enjoy the next five weeks because after she got her lower-leg cast she was going back to her life, with or without House.

Romoly also knew he's caught a glimpse of the notebook; she saw his eyes light up at the sight of it. This was one manipulation she was going to love. Folding her arms in front of her and raising her eyebrow, she looked him up and down. "And why should I tell you, after everything we've been through lately?"

House shrugged. "You shouldn't but you want to tell me; you're dying to tell me."

_How does he do that? He's better at reading people than I gave him credit for._

Romoly sighed and knew she had to finish the story. Face-palming, she rubbed her eyes then sunk further against the headboard. "It wasn't until Clif died that I learned he'd set out to write the definitive psychological thriller with a villain who made Hannibal Lector look like Prince Charming. And I had no doubt he could do it; Clif was a phenomenal writer." Romoly looked away and got lost in her own world; House was on the edge of his seat (or at least the bed anyway). House was a smart guy; he knew how serious she was and that prank time was over, at least for the time being.

"Like a lot of writers, Clif became completely immersed in the characters and the lives of the story he was writing. I'd catch tiny glimpses of this from time to time. And as time went on, the longer I knew him the more "obsessed" he'd get. He'd never talk about what he wrote but he was almost a completely different person when he'd leave his writing office. It would sometimes take up to a half an hour for him to return to the man he was. In each of his works, a desperately strong and impenetrable psychological bond developed between the creator and the created. Sometimes I think he knew his characters better than he knew me. When I look back at that now…" she paused and looked at House, who was watching her patiently for more information. "…I realize I probably look pretty stupid." She stopped once again then continued.

She waved her hands as if to dismiss what she said. "Anyway, back to this novel he was writing. It was two days after Clif was killed that I discovered this fourth book, the one that had become an obsession for Clif. I was cleaning out his office and was completely amazed to discover it. House, I always knew when Clif was writing something; he always told me and I always knew to keep out of the office. But this was something completely different. It was only about three-fourths completed but I read it that day. And it scared me; it made me sick, so sick I actually vomited. I never would've thought the Clif that I knew was capable of such horror."

"What was it about?" House asked quietly, his eyes sympathizing with me and my plight.

Romoly gathered the covers closer around her and shivered despite the warm weather outside. "The main character was a paranoid schizophrenic housed in an insane asylum. Nowadays they're called "hospitals" or "mental wards" but this fictional place was like the hell house for the mentally disturbed. The character is caught between two worlds: reality and the one created by the paranoia. And there's a killer on the loose in the asylum. Sounds implausible, I know, but Clif could just about make anything believable. This book was dark; disturbing; engrossing; horrific. When I was finished I actually had to question whether this man was the man I loved. And I didn't know anymore.

He'd changed; I'm going to venture to guess that, by the time we'd ended up on that hotel balcony, he'd become so immersed in this book that he was living it out; he'd become a paranoid schizophrenic. More than likely he already was but the writing of this book unleashed the demon hiding inside.

Clif had gone to different mental wards and hospitals around the country, researching not only the patients but their living conditions as well. His journal detailed his own encounters with the patients; the state of their rooms; the interactions between the patients; and the behavior when they were alone in their rooms. He kept meticulous, time-and-date-stamped notes, which I found with the novel." Romoly took a deep breath. "Shortly after finding and reading the novel, I was sent to see a shrink, the reason being two-fold: to monitor my mental state and they wanted to know what I knew about his mental state at the time of the incident. I told them what I had thought, given the limited knowledge before his death, and what I had discovered in the novel.

I was declared sane but shook up and psychologically hurt, no more than a person in my situation could be expected to be, and the shrink trusted me. She wanted me to give her my impressions about Clif and how "healthy" he was. After I gave her my impressions about the novel, we'd concluded that Clif had became so engrossed, so absolutely immersed in what he was writing that he inadvertently unleashed some hidden psychological problem. My guess would be the line between reality and fantasy had become so blurred over the years that this novel had sent him over the edge. Now that I look back, it was in the last few months of his life that he'd exhibited the greatest behavioral shift, something I should've caught on I know but I was a stupid woman who thought I could fix it.

As I think back on it now, I know that it was Clif himself who condemned him to his death by not speaking out about his possible illness. That novel helped me see that Clif had never been healthy but had been great about living a double life. Now I'm more attuned to people; I can sense when they're not what they pretend to be."

House sat back and looked at her almost apprehensively. "You mean like psychic or something?"

Romoly rolled her eyes. "Of course not but it wouldn't be hard to read your mind: medicine and sex. Yeah, that's all that's on your mind."

House's eyes widened in phony astonishment. "Wow…how did you do that? You can read minds!"

She ignored that. "No, I'm just more sensitive to the moods and motives of others. I can sense when someone is genuine and when they're putting on a show. House," Romoly smiled and leaned over a bit. "I knew from the moment I saw you in the hallway that you are 100% genuine. You're an ss."

House smiled. "Thank you. I didn't expect such a nice compliment from you."

Romoly wasn't in the mood to go into why that was a compliment; she just let it go. "So now I understand where Clif was at the time of the incident though it doesn't make it right. I just wish I'd seen what was truly going on; Clif might still be alive today."

House, in all his frank selfishness, had been internally grateful it happened; he wouldn't have met her if Clif had lived. While petty, selfish and extremely gruesome as that was, it was the absolute truth. Coughing he sat back a little. "Your right; you should've known." Her eyes fell at this. "But you didn't and it's over now."

Romoly looked up and saw that he was trying to make her feel better in his own blunt way. She nodded. "You're right…just like you've gotta put behind whatever it was that damaged your leg. And a deal's a deal: it's confession time. What happened to your leg?"

"Is that all you want to know? Don't you want to know why I became a doctor? Why I'm so gruff? Why I never shave? Why I'm so damn irresistible even though I'm such an ss?"

Romoly shrugged. "You aren't THAT irresistible. I've seen cuter piglets wallowing in mud though…" she studied his face, "…and with that facial hair you two do look very similar. Are you related?"

House rolled his eyes. "Of course; they were probably my children. I had a run in with this woman, Doris. She was an absolute swine but boy she was good in the sack. Had the biggest hindquarters, though. Did the piglets have blue eyes?"

Her eyes widened. "You know, I think they did. They must be your children! But what kind of breed would that make them?"

House grinned. "Greglets."


	54. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

Over the next week they cohabited, each plotting the downfall of the other while wondering how they'd make it through the next weeks without ravishing each other. House had never taken a woman with a long cast before; Romoly didn't want to be taken that way. The further into the week they went, the harder it became to be civil to each other…both were in misery but were too prideful to admit it. And House began to really take it out on Romoly: calling her names, ignoring her requests for things…and even defying her when she said she didn't need anything.

It culminated in an incident on that Friday which certainly wasn't pretty and seemingly set the tone for the next weeks together...

It was 8:00 a.m. and Romoly was ready for her bath. Wheeling herself toward the bathroom, she moved to get into position to get into the tub. She'd been so upset at House; he was acting even more the jerk than he normally was and she couldn't take it anymore. "Neither of us will survive 4 more weeks," she thought, rebuking herself again for keeping track of this craziness. Why did they both have to make it hard; why couldn't they just get along? "He seems to think it's a lot more fun to fight," she murmured as she removed her tank top, her sleep shirt of choice, and leaving her pink satin string bikinis on. Checking the brake on the wheelchair (she'd seen one too many episodes of "America's Funniest Home Videos" to let that one go unchecked), she pulled herself up, flexing her arms as she put all her weight on the arms of the chair. Just as she was grabbing for the side of the tub she felt rough male hands on her hips, steadying her.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" the voice, oh so familiar to her, gruffly asked as she stood back upright and looked behind her. House quickly removed his hands as he simply stood there, eyeing her suspiciously but greedily, her long, perfectly-trimmed body beckoning for him as the satin of the panties glistened against her smooth olive-pink skin. He felt himself grow harder at the possibilities that seem to lay wide open to him at that moment. But he was convinced she needed help because if he didn't than she wouldn't want him; she brought out insecurities he wasn't ready to face just yet.

"I'm getting into the tub; what do you think?"

"Not without help; someone seems to have forgotten a certain incident where a certain SOMEBODY slipped and fell in the tub, giving me quite the view of the hoo-hoo. While I'd never miss an opportunity to view that, spelunking is a lot more fun."

Romoly knew she should be used to this but this sort of talk never failed surprise her. Frankly it's just gotten old. "Why's it always sex with you? Can't you look at me objectively?"

He moved even closer, unlocking the wheelchair and kicking it behind him, sending it rolling out the door. Her back was still to him when she felt his naked chest behind her, the sparse hair tickling her back. She was already driving him wild but he was afraid she'd turn around and he'd catch a glimpse of all the goodness he knew was there. If he did he'd lose it right there…and he couldn't do that in front of her. He'd have to wait until he got back to his bedroom and shut to the door for his release, just like he always did after putting her in the tub.

It was so frustrating since it was always the only release he'd allow for himself; he didn't bring hookers around because he didn't want her to see that side of him. It might've been different if he hadn't have slept with her. But he had. And it was like honey to a bee…

He leaned down, his whiskers caressing her earlobe as he whispered, "Can you?"

She hobbled closer to the tub; House's eyes didn't miss the rhythm her hips took as she moved. His hands ached to once again hold and kneed the soft, luscious flesh but he couldn't touch her again. He wouldn't do something she didn't want. "I can do this; I don't need you." She paused and looked over her shoulder. "I've never needed you."

And this cut him to the quick. He stood his ground but narrowed his eyes. "And just what do you mean by that?"

"Ever since the day we met you've been the thorn in my backside; the bee in my bonnet. You're psycho and demented and everything that's WRONG about mankind. And to think I even SLEPT with you. I'm a bigger idiot than I once thought. Either that or I can't stop boinking psychologically disturbed men. It's like written in my genes or something."

House narrowed his eyes; he didn't really believe what she said but that didn't mean it didn't hurt anyway. He watched her move closer to the tub and turn around. Now he caught the full view of what he wanted. It was madness, this whole situation between them. It was even more screwed up than that relationship she had with Clif. At least Clif was simply a paranoid schizophrenic; House didn't know what this relationship was. Or why either were fighting the other. _Was it even worth it?_

She caught him staring at her breasts, her nipples firm and inviting. She narrowed her eyes at him because she figured he wasn't listening to a word she said. "I want you to leave. Now."

His gaze went to her eyes, flashing with anger. "Not until you're in that tub."

"I can do this by myself. Leave."

"Make me."

Romoly stood up again and grabbed the thick black towel hanging from the towel rack, wrapping it around herself. If they were going to duke it out she was going to be at least halfway covered up. "I'd be happy to kick you in the nads with my concrete foot but since I can't even lift it that far off the ground I might simply punch you in the nose. You've done absolutely nothing to help me: if I hadn't have met you I wouldn't have this broken leg; I would be at work, doing what I love; I might even be in a perfectly sane relationship with a wonderful guy who…who…" she was having trouble with her words so she lifted her hands and waved them wildly as she sputtered, "…who isn't YOU!" She pointed to him for emphasis. "I've never been treated this way before and I will NOT take it any longer." She began limping, ever-so-slowly, around him.

House shook his head, clearly not believing her. "Empty words; you've said that at least ten times this week alone but you never go." He watched her; she seemed serious. He spread his arms out. "Besides, where are you going to go?"

"My apartment of course."

"It's been rented out."

She stopped but didn't turn around. _He had to be kidding._ "You've got to be kidding." She said to open air.

He looked at her with a very serious expression. "Of course not. They've moved all your belongings into storage and you've got no place to go."

She slowly turned around then narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't believe you."

He shrugged. "Fine. Go see for yourself. In fact, here, let me help you. You certainly can't hobble over there all by yourself. You're a cripple now, just like me." He limped to the wheelchair and wheeled it over, pointing to it. She was completely leery of him but frightened at the same time. From what she'd seen of him, he didn't say anything just to say it; he always seemed to have something to back himself up. She cautiously got into the wheelchair, picking up her tank top before she sat down. She pulled it on without flashing House who internally groaned. Without wasting any time, he wheeled her to the front door, where she grabbed her purse by the futon and pulled her keys out then they went to her apartment.

She leaned up and slipped the key, the one with the green key ring around it, into the lock. Smirking because she assumed she was right, she turned…but the key didn't go with her hand. The key fit but it wasn't the right one.

The locks had been changed.

Now Romoly was scared. "What's going on?"

House shrugged. "I told you; your apartment's being rented by someone else. Someone told the landlord that you'd left without so much as a word or a stick of furniture, leaving everything behind. He rented it straight out. But I think we'll get along fine with the new neighbor." House raised his hand to bang on the door when the door flew open, revealing a beautiful woman. She was tall, blonde and stood at what looked to be about 5'11". Her body was curvy beneath the jeans and flowing tank top she wore though her breasts were non-existent. Romoly's mouth dropped with horror as the woman smiled at House.

"Oh, hello Dr. House. How are you today?"

"Great, Janine, just great. Listen, my roomie Romoly here wants to see your apartment. She's heard so much about our new neighbor but, as you can see…" House pointed to Romoly's cast; Romoly was just as horrified by the fake House niceness as she was about losing her apartment. "…she hasn't been able to come over and bring you a cake. You'll have to forgive her; normally she's very hospitable. Would that be ok?"

"Absolutely. I was just stepping out to get the paper. I'll be right back." She smiled at Romoly then stepped around them. When she'd gone out the door and around the corner, Romoly looked around inside the apartment and saw that, indeed, all of her belongings were gone and different furniture took its place.

"How did this…when did this…I didn't hear…" Romoly was speechless; it indeed seemed true.

"Where you going to go now? You can't possibly leave. Come on; let's get you into that bath before I have to go to work."

Romoly didn't do anything but stare as he wheeled her out of the apartment and over to his. Just as he was wheeling her inside, House looked over his shoulder at Janice, who grinned. House smiled back and gave her the thumbs-up sign.


	55. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54**

Romoly was numb, even after House left for work. But she needed answers so she decided to call Wilson; if anyone knew what House was up to it would be Wilson.

"Hello?" he answered.

"James? It's me, Romoly."

She could hear him smiling over the phone and smiled herself; it was infectious. "Hi. How are you?"

"Not so great; your best friend's at it again."

Wilson closed his eyes and sighed; why couldn't House just stop this already? "What he do now? Kidnap your niece? Torture your grandmother? Or…was he nice to you? If it was that last one he's gone over the edge this time; there's no stopping him. I'll see what I can…"

Romoly cleared her throat, thereby stopping his ranting. "No, no. We got into yet another fight about whether I needed help or not: he said me yes; I said him no and I threatened to leave and go back to my apartment. He said he was tired of hearing me say that and then told me it was too late; that the landlord told him my apartment was already rented out. I said I didn't believe him and he took me next door. Sure enough, there was a woman…a very beautiful woman, I might add…living there already, and my stuff was gone. James, when I signed the lease I paid for an entire year's rent. I don't know what to do; would the landlord really rent it to someone else if I've already paid for it?"

Wilson was confused; House claimed the apartment was already being rented out? Who was the woman in Romoly's apartment? Besides, Romoly paid for an entire year's rent up front? If she's got that kind of money why's she renting? "If you're concerned I would check with your landlord but no, legally they can't rent out a place you've paid in advance for. If anything they should be grateful for people who do that. But if you had that kind of money then why'd you get an apartment? You could've put a down payment on a house with that kind of money; these aren't the cheapest apartments around you know."

Romoly involuntarily stiffened. "I've lived in apartments my entire adult life; I don't want the maintenance of a house. I wouldn't know how to take care of a yard and I don't want to be responsible for calling a plumber. I'd rather have someone else do that."

Wilson let it go but he wasn't sure he completely believed her. "Well, if you really are concerned you could contact the landlord but I have a feeling it's another of House's manipulations. He doesn't want you to go so he pulls a stunt like this." Wilson paused. "Romoly, have you ever heard of Stacy Warner?"

She shook her head then remembered she was on the phone. "Nope."

Wilson gave her a brief history of the woman House spent five years of his life with, the one everyone considered the only woman he ever loved. "They moved in together after only a week. But did you know that he was manipulating her, too, to get her to move in with him?"

"What?"

"Oh yeah. And what he did was childish things, like t-p her house and manipulate her car to where whenever she honked her horn the windshield wipers would come on and vice versa. She actually thought it was sweet because she believed that, in his childish way, he was telling her he liked her. And I would say it was an older child's version of pulling on his crush's braids in class. But this seems a bit extreme; either he's just very, very mean or he's got it bad. I'm leaning for the latter; no matter how crude and rude House is, he's not one to be MEAN per se; he's just untactful, undermining and cutting."

"What should I do?"

"Well, Stacy didn't give up without a fight; she really stuck it to him a couple of times. And he loved it. That's what he wants you to do: to stick it back to him. Before this little incident I would've said go easy on the guy; now?" Wilson's voice lowered conspiratorially. "Give him hell."

"Thanks James. I'll talk to you later."

"Ok…oh, wait a minute! I might know a way to know for sure if you're apartment's been rented out and you don't even have to ask your landlord. This beautiful woman, the one who answered the door…did you get her name? What did she look like? She might be someone that I know as well; it would be too much of a coincidence if I knew her as well."

Romoly didn't want to think about her but if it helped solve the mystery… "Ok. Let's see: she was really tall, around 5'11". She had blonde hair and a great body…except she was seriously lacking breasts. She had a toothy but beautiful smile. Oh! And her name was Janine."

Wilson didn't quite know how to react…this was definitely a House manipulation. "Janine's a hooker."

Romoly's eyes widened and she involuntarily gasped with horror. "WHAT? A hooker?" She paused. "Well, why am I surprised, really? I mean, it's obvious the guy can't have a normal relationship so he turns to hookers for physical companionship. While I seriously do not condone the practice of prostitution and have my own views about people who use them I choose not to judge anyone. Wait a minute…how did you know she's a hooker?"

Wilson paused. "Did Janine have a kinda nasally voice? Did she have a small dark mole on the side of her mouth?"

Romoly thought about it and gasped again. "Yes she did."

Wilson sighed. He didn't want to admit it… "Umm…House referred her to me."

And that was enough said.


	56. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

And thus began the silent treatment. Romoly didn't speak with House unless it was absolutely necessary…and then only in grunts or head movements. Instead of talking to House verbally, Romoly used her pen and notebook, writing down everything under the sun except, of course, the words that needed to be said. Those were words Romoly wasn't sure would ever be spoken.

At that point it didn't matter; what only mattered was making House eat shit. As she wrote in her notebook visions of the look on his face when he saw her hiding the notebook that day kept replaying in her head. Her smile, delicious and devious, widened as she wrote that morning's entry, after House went to work and before Irene, her nurse, came by. She'd kept the diary since the day House saw it and most of it was the truth. There was some embellishment; he would simply never know what part was truth and what part was embellishment…

_August 25, 2008…_

_Did you know that he told me my apartment was rented out to someone already; that the landlord claimed I'd abandoned it? That's right…he showed me the apartment with the new tenant, Janine I believe her name is. It's just too bad he didn't know I'd paid for a year's rent at the time of signing the lease and that the landlord couldn't rent out my apartment. That little stunt might've worked if he'd done his homework. I had him pegged for a much better manipulator. Perhaps he should learn from Yoda here; if you want to run with the Big Dogs you gotta be ready._

_Honestly, though…it really doesn't matter what he does to me. And I know he's probably gone through all my stuff to pull off that stunt, reveling in what he could read. He probably thinks he knows me. But he doesn't know me. He doesn't know about that incident in Tucson and the blackmail; if he ever knew about my relationship with the mayor and everything that went with it he'd never have anything to do with me…_

Romoly giggled as she finished the entry. "If this doesn't get his curiosity up then I've gotta invent some better stories. Tucson? I've never been to Tucson. But what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?" She giggled again and shook her head as she snapped the book, ¼ of the way filled, and slipped it underneath her pillow. That night she was going to leave it sitting out somewhere, not overly discrete to arouse suspicion of an intentional plant but just enough to arouse his curiosity.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

That afternoon Romoly had called Diana and made plans to go out for dinner. When House got home that night, he found Romoly in the bathroom, standing up almost precariously, putting on makeup. "Hey." He said from the bathroom doorway. She looked at him through the mirror and only hummed her agreement. She knew she'd have to talk to him sometime but she didn't want to volunteer information. "What are you doing?"

She ignored him as she put the finishing touches on her makeup. She looked beautiful in the white sundress she wore that House had problems thinking straight; he always took her breath away. Without so much as a word she picked up her makeup articles, shoved them into her makeup bag and carefully fell into the wheelchair with a grunt. Settling herself back in, she backed up, almost running into House who moved away with growing irritation, and expertly wheeled the wheelchair around to proceed down the hall and away from him. Now he was getting mad; he hated being ignored almost as much as he hated the stupidity of his patients.

"Why the silent treatment all of the sudden? What's crawling up your butt?"

She nearly stopped to turn around and ream him but she had to keep her cool; she wasn't about to let HIM ruin her plan. Just then the doorbell rang and she answered to find Diana standing there. House stopped behind Romoly and when Diana saw him, she suddenly grew really nervous.

"Hi Romoly. Are you ready?"

Romoly smiled at another human being for the first time in a long while and nodded. "You bet. Just let me grab my purse and sweater." She rolled away and House watched Romoly as he said, "Oh so now you two are dating; you're turning Romoly into a lesbian, aren't you? Very, very hot. Would you two like some company tonight? With three the party can really get going."

Diana rolled her eyes; she wasn't going to listen to his insanity. Fortunately Romoly came back just then. "No, I'm going to dinner with Diana and her new boyfriend. I'd ask you to come but I only want to be around people I like. Sorry." Romoly wheeled herself out the door and slammed it in his face before he could say anything else.

He couldn't quite make out what happened just then; it didn't matter anyway. He knew what he was doing tonight…

Her diary.

And he knew just where she usually kept it too.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

It had taken him about an hour to get up to the current entry and he didn't know quite what to think. He knew how she felt about him…well, everything except for the all important "I love you". He also knew a lot more than he ever thought possible. He wasn't sure he liked or even believed what he was reading but he couldn't find anything to dispute it so he reluctantly leaned into believing it. One entry in particular caught his eye…

_August 18, 2008…_

_Well, when he left for work I worked on getting my group together. It requires lots and lots of free time; people not afraid of trying new things; costumes; an eagerness for companionship and lots of alcohol. Right now I've got about 7 people, including myself, on board but we really need an even number since there will be a lot of one-on-one action. Most of it will be with the entire group. I'm very excited because we have a number of men in the group, all of them fairly young, healthy and extremely handsome. The best part? They don't need enhancements; they don't need medication unlike some men I know… _

_And this group isn't afraid to open their minds and experience their innermost thoughts, desires and feelings. I feel like this group will not be bound by social mores; they'll be aware of what is needed and will act accordingly. _

_Should I ask House? Nah. I don't think so. He'll never understand, or appreciate, the group. But…if he were an observer…I'm sure he could learn a lot. _

_The first meeting will be August 26. I think I'll tell everyone to bring their favorites and to be ready for some really hot stuff. I just hope we have enough room for everyone… _

House was speechless; if this was what he thought it was…and it sure sounded like it…there was absolutely no way he was missing this. He was simply stumped how a librarian like herself could know of such things. What librarian knows about group sex anyway?

He wasn't about to miss it either. But he'd have to pump her for information without giving his information away. He'll work on her when she gets back from dinner…


	57. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56**

House was watching television when Romoly got back. "Hello honey," he stated sarcastically, the honey dripping from his mouth as he stared at the television. She rolled her eyes but ignored him as she shut the door behind her wheelchair. "Did you have fun with your girlfriend?"

Romoly didn't know how to respond; she didn't want to encourage him but damn it, she wanted to say something so badly it was bugging her.

Of course House was frustrated when he couldn't seem to get a rise from her. He turned around to see her rolling behind the sofa to the hallway, which irritated him even more. He got up and followed, sticking his cane in the closing bedroom door and throwing it open even more. "What are you doing?" She continued to ignore him as she rolled to the bureau to begin removing her bedclothes. He narrowed his eyes. "Damn it, TALK TO ME!" He practically screamed, scaring them both out of their wits.

She jumped with fright and turned in her chair to find him not six feet away, thumping his cane and blazing his eyes. She finally spoke, her voice rising with each question; it was clear she was actually FEELING upset. "What do you want to talk about? The weather? Politics? The crappy treatment of Britney in the mental ward? Or how you moved all my belongings out of my apartment and into storage so you can play some sick, twisted game with me? You tell me."

House calmed a bit; it was so good to see her yelling at him; it had been too long since she showed him any real feelings. He loved it when she got mad. "No, that's not it. I actually wanted to talk about the escalating price of Doritos; have you ever noticed that the nacho cheese variety is more expensive than the cool ranch?"

Romoly was close to screaming; why couldn't he just address this? "And I bet Janine is one of your "playthings". Is she your whore?"

From the look on House's face, Romoly guessed she'd perhaps pushed it a bit too far. He stepped closer to her and leaned down; Romoly shrunk back with fright. "What makes you say that?" He pulled away from her. "You've been talking to Wilson, haven't you?" She reversed the wheelchair to go around him but he stopped her. "You have been talking to Wilson." She avoided his gaze as he looked anywhere but her. "Are you seeing him again? Has he been scratching your hard-to-reach areas? It would seem his reach is better than mine," House sarcastically, and bitterly, added.

Her head snapped up; she didn't want him talking about her friend…and his BEST friend…like that. "I've never _stopped_ seeing him. And that makes me HIS whore now, right? Or am I the "company" whore, the one that gets passed between you two like some toy?" She paused. "Just like Janine?"

"I KNEW Wilson told you about Janine; how else could you know that he's used her as well?"

"So, not only do you two share lunches you also share women. When you've got a good thing why not share it with your bestest bud? I'm sure you share everything with him; ok, not share so much as BRAG about to him."

House shook his head. "Not everything." The look he gave left her inexplicably tingly in all the right places. Coughing she nudged him out of the way and rolled toward the bathroom with her nightclothes.

"I'm tired. I'm getting ready for bed." She rolled out of the room just as House raised his voice: "Maybe we should have a sleepover sometime and you can compare notes about style, form and technique."

She rolled her eyes and continued to the restroom; to listen to his nonsense would be nonsense itself.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt though…

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

The next morning House and Romoly, continuing with their morning routine as if nothing were amiss, were getting ready for the day when House casually said, "I'll be home early today. I haven't seen Irene in awhile and I'm in the mood for a bit of naughty nurse. What do you say?"

Romoly knew why he was taking the trouble of telling her what he was going to do; she knew what he was referring to: after all, it was August 26 and the group was meeting that day. And he was saying, without saying, he'd be dropping in for the group. No bother; that was exactly what she planned the group for.

"Naughty nurse you say? Are you sure she'd be up for that?" She looked at his jeans. "I can see you're already up for it…"

"I'll bring Wilson; we'll have a party."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "If you want. We'll order pizza and watch soaps, no biggie."

House shrugged as well. "If you insist." He grabbed his backpack and turned toward the door, an evil grin splitting his handsome face. He couldn't wait to get back and see this group in action. He just hoped he had enough protection, and stamina, to make his way through the group.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

"Hey Jimmy," House called to Wilson from across the morning crowd in the hospital cafeteria. Wilson turned around to find his insane best friend waving his arms and cane. House grinned and raised his voice, making sure that everyone in that cafeteria heard his question. "I'm gonna have group sex in a few hours; care to join me?"

Everyone stopped eating for a moment as they stared at House with varying degrees of horror; Wilson simply shook his head as he watched his friend limp to where he was waiting in line. House grinned as he swiped Wilson's cinnamon roll from his tray. Wilson groaned and quickly grabbed another, keeping that one close by so it wouldn't disappear. "As much as I'd love to, House, I can't; I've got plans."

House looked at Wilson suspiciously. Quickly chewing and gulping down the cinnamony bite, House asked, "What plans?"

"I meet twice a month for my own group sex session class. It's held in the back room of the community center."

House rolled his eyes. "Fine. But you're what should be a great session; Romoly's hosting it at the apartment."

Wilson shot him a confused expression. "Romoly? Really? How's she going to do the group sex? She's got one leg you know."

House shook his head with obvious disgust. "You don't need legs to have sex; haven't you ever had group sex before? Haven't you had sex at ALL?"

Wilson paid and moved away from House. "Go; have your sex. And when you come asking me for medicine for the venereal disease you're bound to get don't say I didn't warn you."

"You're just jealous because I get to see her naked. Why," House followed with his index finger on his chin in a contemplative gesture, his expression determined. "I've ALREADY seen her naked!" When Wilson sat down, House grabbed the second cinnamon roll and made a break for it.

Wilson sighed and shook his head. He wouldn't go after him; after all, House would definitely be seeing him later…and Wilson figured he'd need all the dignity he could muster.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

House worked and waited, biding his time until he could leave and find her and the group in sexually compromising positions. He arrived home the earliest he could, about 3:15 p.m. Giddy, House moseyed, well, more like limped slowly, to his door and put his ear to it. He heard music, the clinking of what sounded like wine glasses, and giggling. Lots and lots of giggling and not just any giggling: inebriated giggling (or so he thought) to be exact.

If he hadn't been so overly excited, he would've paid closer attention to what he heard behind that door. He would've been saved the embarrassment of what he THOUGHT he heard versus what was ACTUALLY going on behind that door…and he wouldn't have thrown open the apartment door, held his hands up and shouted, "LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED! I'VE BROUGHT THE CONDOMS AND I GOT DIBS ON THE BLUE ONES!"

Everyone in that room stopped what they were doing, some with glasses in mid-air; others with chips and various other snack foods left in their mouths, un-chewed. House looked around and immediately put his hands down.

He knew right away this wasn't about sex: he found a varying group of about ten people sitting around, of both genders and all shapes, sizes, ages…and dress. But that was the one thing everyone had in common: they were all fully and happily clothed.

House saw Wilson sitting to Romoly's right and Diana sitting on her left with Wanda across the circle from her. The others simply stared at the crazy coot for seemingly forever until House coughed to attempt to cover his embarrassment. "Excuse me; what are all think you're doing here in my apartment?" He managed to croak out seemingly effortlessly.

Romoly, barely managing to cover both her laughter and triumph because it was THIS moment that made everything totally she did totally and completely worth while, coughed and glared at him angrily. "No House: what did YOU think we were doing?" She looked around at the group, the majority of which were horror-stricken; the rest (Wanda, Wilson and Diana) totally believed what was happening but didn't know what to make of it. "And now you've shouted to the greater Princeton area that you brought colored condoms, right?" She didn't wait for his answer. "Does it look like we need those?"

House's face, red with embarrassment and anger, frowned at Romoly. "Then what is going on? And why are you here?" He pointed his cane at Wilson who was trying so very hard to contain himself as well.

Wilson held up a book. "It's Romoly's book club from work. It's the first meeting and both Romoly and Diana invited me. Care to join us? Since it's the first meeting we just brought our favorite wine and book. I'm sure everyone will be excited to hear all the fun things in the Playboy Anthology you keep by your bed."

House avoided the piercing stares of conviction and he realized Wilson was right; it was a book club. Before he could storm out of there, Romoly asked, "You seemed to know we were meeting today; how?"

And House didn't answer; he chose that moment to storm out and slam the door behind him.


	58. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

After House left he drove, winding up back at the hospital. Quickly locating the laboratory, House sidled up to the man he knew would be in there and exaggeratedly drawled to him, as he looked through the microscope: "Yo, homie," The man sighed and shook his head but continued to read results. "If I annoy ya enough are ya bros gonna come afta me, rough me upa bit? Will they give me a gangsta noogie?"

Foreman rolled his eyes as he pushed away from the laboratory counter, turned his chair toward the annoyance, leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms in front of his wide chest. With an eyebrow raised Foreman said, "Ok, House; I'm listening. What do you want?"

House lowered his voice, looked around and asked semi-conspiratorially though overly exaggerated, "I understand that you're a black version of me." He looked down at his cane that he thumped against the ground. "If I were to pimp up my cane, what sorta bling does a homie like myself need?"

Foreman shut his eyes as he silently gathered the patience he needed to not thump the man beside him. "Was there something you needed?"

"Since you're my black homie bro, tell me something: what do you do if your manipulation isn't working?"

Foreman, determined not to show surprise because he figured he couldn't get more information from House, shrugged. But he was so dying to know what this was about. After all, House NEVER came to them for advice; he always went to Wilson or Cuddy. _So why's he coming to me? Am I really so much like him he HAS to ask me because no one would understand? Oh no…_ "Depends on what you're manipulating for. Less clinic duty?"

"Nothing to do with the hospital."

"Oh…it's personal. Does it have to do with that neighbor of yours…Romona is it?"

House narrowed his eyes. "It's Romoly. And how do you know about her?"

"We walked in on you two; she was a human octopus. It's all over the hospital."

House face-palmed. _That's just perfect._ "Oh really? And what's everyone saying about me?"

Foreman shook his head. "It's not about you; they're actually worried about Romona…"

"ROMOLY!"

"…whatever. Everyone wonders if she's truly sane or not, to get mixed up with the likes of you."

"I've been wondering the same thing. It's not working."

Foreman studied the man in front of him and was genuinely surprised that, for the first time, House genuinely seemed to be asking for advice. "What's not working? And why aren't you talking with Wilson about this?"

House shook his head and looked out the glass wall of the laboratory to the people walking just outside. "Can't do that."

"Why not? You tell him everything. If you ask me you two share way too much information."

"Nobody asked you."

Foreman waited for an answer and, when it didn't come, figured there was something much bigger than what he was letting on. Whatever it was didn't sound good for House; Foreman figured House was losing at whatever stupid game he was playing at the moment. He paused then said, "House, manipulation will not work in your private life. While it will get a stubborn patient to take their cough syrup or a co-worker to do your paperwork for you, when it comes to relationships it never works and you'll lose the person. It's that simple."

House grinned; it sounded like Foreman knew that from experience. "Do you know that from experience?" And, like House, Foreman was not about to divulge any information. "What if she's manipulating back?"

That wasn't something Foreman expected. "Oh, feisty. What are you doing about it?"

"What should be done?"

"I say let her manipulate you; let her get it out of her system. Then, when she's through, finish the job."

"Hmm…strike when she's least vulnerable? Oh I like that…" House turned to walk away then stopped and turned around. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because if you don't get your way you're even more of an ss than you usually are. I can't work like that."

House grinned and turned on his heel. _Good answer._


	59. Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

_August 31, 2008_

_Well, I heard from my accountant today. The final profit numbers from the sales of his last book are in. His cut of the profits were $43 million just since he died. His own profits from that book total over $200 million... _

_And he left it all to me. What am I going to do with that kind of money? I mean, the money is great but I'm not a jetsetter or a "Meet Gustav the Tennis Instructor at the Club" type of girl. I have to work, to do what I love. Otherwise I'm nothing. _

_Wowie. I never thought I'd see money like that in my entire life. What would Dr. House say when he hears this? Nope…he's never going to know. He'll never know that when Clif died his estate was worth over $400 million. I guess I'm pretty rich, wouldn't you say?_

_No, I just enjoy being plain ole' Romoly Scott, librarian to the Princetonites. You know, I really like Princeton except for those damn mutant doctors. I mean, is it the air up here? Are they all limping twerps who couldn't give two figs for anyone but themselves? Ok, I can't say that of all the doctors. James is pretty wonderful. And what a kisser. So much better than Dr. House. I bet he's a better lover than Dr. House too. James would probably wear a set of devil horns and a devil's tail to bed if I asked him; I'd wear the angel halo and wings. That would be HOT. _

_Sex with Dr. House was ok but nothing to write home about; I was just happy to get some. It had been so long… but sex with House certainly lacked something. Maybe if he tried colored condoms, blue to match his eyes. That would help, wouldn't it?_

_I don't know. Why should I care anyway? There's so way I'm letting him touch me again, not after he boinked Diana. Perhaps she felt sorry for him; perhaps she's really a masochist who prefers hurting herself with men like him. Perhaps she saw something in him the rest of us can't see. Whatever it is…she can have him. I just want to get out of this apartment then out of this cast. When my lease is up I'm outta here. _

_*I've gotta get out of this place…*_

_That's now my new theme song, by the way…_

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

"There's no way in HELL she's a millionaire!" House almost shrieked as he read the entry. It was the day after that entry; he'd swiped her journal before work and was reading it in the comfort of his office, twirling his cane as he read. "And what's this crap about me being bad in bed? I've never had any complaints before…" he threw down the book on the desk. Standing up, he began pacing, waving his cane and getting more and more upset.

This time he did scream. "Why am I getting mad? What has this girl done to me? I'm yelling at myself, talking to myself." He stopped and rubbed his face. Even after telling himself he wouldn't let anything she said get to him…he was doing exactly what he told himself he wouldn't. "I'm going crazy here. She's just pulling my chain, just like that group she said she was a part of." He took a deep breath and began chanting a new mantra over and over, if only to make himself feel better…

"She's not a millionaire; I'm a genius in bed…"

"She's not a millionaire; I'm a genius in bed…""

"She's not a millionaire; I'm a genius in bed…""

"She's not…" House failed to realize he was in a public building where other people could see and hear him. And thus he was interrupted by…

"Hooouuuse…?" the long, drawn out name stopped him in his tracks, his back to the intrusion. Closing his eyes with embarrassment, and a bit of anger towards Romoly for putting him in that situation in the first place, he sighed and turned around to find Wilson regarding him with wide eyes and clearly a worried expression on his face. "Is everything ok?"

"Just hunky dorey. And yourself, Jimmy, Boy-Wonder Oncologist?"

"I don't know yet; when they haul you off in a straitjacket let me know." He regarded House. "Is this about Romoly again?"

House limped over to his desk and threw the book at him. "Read the last entry: apparently you're a great kisser; I'm lousy in bed; and she's a millionaire. You tell me what you think."

Wilson looked down, opened the book, recognized immediately it was Romoly's diary, and threw the book right back. "I'm not going to read this. You solve your own problems." And he turned on his heel and walked out the door before House could say anything.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

The next day's entry, read that night when Romoly went to dinner with her "book club"…he didn't want to believe it was her book club…had House reeling…

_September 2, 2008_

_I've met someone yesterday! His name is Peter; he's single; a computer programmer; loves traveling; and likes the same things I do! But you won't believe where I met him. I met him on a fan forum for my favorite show. We posted responses back and forth, talking about…you know…I don't even remember what; I just remember thinking it was the most intense, intellectually stimulating conversation I'd had in a long time. Too long, as a matter of fact. And certainly more stimulating than any conversation I've ever had with Dr. House. At least Peter knows how to hold a conversation. _

_Anyway, enough about the inadequacies of Dr. House…get this: then Peter EMAILED me and suggested we IM each other. How could I refuse? And I felt like girl going on her first date; I was giddy and giggly at the same time. Pathetic, I know, but I couldn't help it. Before I knew it I saw the, "Hello? Romster? Are you there?" Yeah, yeah, I know, Romster; I'm just not very creative. But he wasn't complaining. And his first response after I answered him was, "Romster? What's that mean?"_

_After we both formally introduced ourselves, we were talking like we'd known each other forever and we found out just how compatible we are. We talked about anything and everything under the sun but, before I knew it, I read, "what ru wearing?" How was I to answer that? He was seducing me; I've never been cyber-seduced before. _

_At that moment Irene came back from picking up a prescription for me and I told her what I was doing. I then asked her if she thought what was going on was a good idea._

_She smiled and asked, "Why not?"_

_So I typed back, "white tank top, no bra; white string bikini panties; thigh-high cast."_

_He paused then typed back "i wish i was there"_

_I paused then went for it…"i do too"_

"_if i was there id remove each of ur straps off slowly, kissing my way down your shoulder until i reached ur…" I was shocked; I couldn't believe what he was typing. Irene couldn't believe it herself but it was her comment that surprised me even more; "Let's seduce him."_

_I so wasn't prepared for that. I asked her, "You mean, like a cyber threesome?"_

_She rolled her eyes. "Good grief no; I mean, we'll both type as you. We'll get him all hot and bothered as we're laughing at him." _

_So that's what we did. It was…weird. Definitely makes the real thing so much better and he seemed to enjoy it more than we did but we had fun playing the naughty patient to his good doctor routine. His form wasn't the best; perhaps he was scared…or not very creative with his writing. But how can I know what type of lover is he? We were online. Perhaps he got _

_scared; that's ok to me. It shows me how sensitive he is. I do know this though: he was much better than Dr. House. _

_I usually don't have sex on the first date but I couldn't help it; one thing led to another and though the first time wasn't great, I really wouldn't mind trying again; he seems really cool. _

_Should I send him a picture? Will he be disappointed if he saw me? _

_Oh, wait a minute…there he is! He just popped up on IM! I'll tell you what happens…_

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

House grinned. "So she's met Peter, has she? I guess I'll have to step up my efforts. And Irene was helping, huh? I thought it seemed a bit too…risqué…for Romoly to know everything she said." And that day's encounter had been even better; he was just relieved he IM'd her while sitting with his laptop in the employee locker room, very accessible to the showers.

Forget Foreman; House couldn't sit idly by as she continued digging into him. He simply wouldn't reveal himself yet; he'd work on her, molding her until he could get her. WHAM!

But House was still mad that she still thinks his real life sexual techniques sucked. Or did she really? She'd already been proven a liar once in her diary by that group of hers; why should he believe her now? "Why should I believe anything she writes in that damned diary? Look where it got me?" So he resolved to disbelieve anything in that notebook unless he himself was privy to it.

But what he did know was that he'd have to continue as Peter; he'll even suggest they meet "IRL".

House grinned again; he couldn't wait to talk to the "Romster" again.


	60. Chapter 59

**Chapter 59**

By September 7, it was the beginning of the fifth week…and they'd done nothing productive except to make each other's lives a living hell. That and feed each other lies and deceptions; House was still"Peter" and Romoly was still writing in her journal. But her entries had more zeal, most gusto, more substance now; she wasn't writing simply to give him something to read; she wrote to give him something to fret over…

namely Peter.

And House was having a ball as Peter; he'd become everything the ideal boyfriend should be. House had no trouble playing this up; it was his applying of what he learned that became the hard part. After IM'ing constantly for a week, House began to delve deeper into her life as 'Peter' so he could find out more about Romoly…

_Silver Bullet: rom, i've changed my name._

_Rom: 2 silver bullet? y do that?_

_Silver Bullet: it's hip its cool i've got a big…gun._

Romoly rolled her eyes. _This is ridiculous._

_R: do you live with anyone, see anyone_

_SB: no u_

Romoly sighed. _How exactly does one describe Greg anyway? The pain in the tookus who broke my leg because he made me get up on that kitchen chair for booze?_

_R: remember that schmuck i've told you about_

_SB: you mean that doctor who made you fall from the kitchen chair_

_R: that's the one_

_SB: wait a minute. ur living with the guy who maimed you_

_R: just for these six weeks until i get the smaller cast_

_SB: but why_

_R: damned idiot wouldn't let me leave; said he needed to take care of me_

Romoly paused and wondered how much to tell this guy. _You might as well tell him all…everything. You don't have anyone else to talk to, really: Wanda's got her husband to deal with; I'm not close to Diana; and I can't speak with James. He might tell Dr. House. Spill it…you've been dying to tell someone._

_SB: is he_

_R: helps me in and out of the bath, prob to watch me naked; he'll order dinner because he won't cook and I can't cook; that's…just about it. if I need something I have to pretty much do it myself_

_SB: then why are you there? can't you leave?_

_R: i've tried but idiot has someone else staying in my apartment; wants me to believe he rented it out. _

_SB: WHAT? ok whats really going on? why would he do that_

_R: we've been manipulating back and forth: i'd do something, he'd do something_

_SB: you do realize this isn't normal behavior_

_R: and you do realize he doesn't really care about me? after we slept together he said it wasn't personal; that it was only physical. _

_SB: you SLEPT with the jerk?_

_R: yep_

_SB: y?_

_R: his eyes_

_SB: huh?_

_R: he's got the most amazing blue eyes_

_SB: so it was only physical for u 2?_

Romoly paused…and her pause must've been longer than what it should've been because Peter got back on…

_SB: i'll take that as a no_

_R: no it wasn't physical_

_SB: so answer me this: is *this* just sex?_

_R: huh?_

_SB: *rolls eyes*_

_SB: u no what i mean_

_SB: is *this*, what we're doing, just sex?_

Romoly paused again…how did this happen? It would seem that even a person who never saw or heard her voice knew how she felt about House.

_SB: you love him _

_R: no i don't_

_SB: and now i know you do_

Could she deny that? SHOULD she deny it? _Why not be honest; it's not like he's going to tell House or anything._

_R: i'm sorry _

_SB: don't be; it's always just been sex for me; i'm in love with someone else myself._

Strangely enough, Romoly was relieved; she didn't really want to turn it into anything she couldn't finish…and she didn't want to finish with Peter. Everything led back to getting back at House.

_R: really? who is she?_

_SB: funny…she's also my neighbor_

_R: tell me about her_

_SB: tall, dark hair, incredible blue eyes. she's an engineer for a construction firm_

_R: no offense but sounds boring_

_SB: more than a librarian?_

_R: hey now watch it; you'll need a librarian when you least expect it…_

And they'd successfully diverted the conversation away from her sucky love life. It actually felt good to get that off her chest though it didn't help any really. They had less than two weeks before she'd get rid of the long cast and be out of his apartment. Will everything go unsaid after she leaves? Or can she leave?

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

After they finished their chat, House sat back in his chair, steepled his fingertips while placing his elbows on the arms of the chair, and set his forehead on the steepled fingers. She basically told "SB" she loved him. While he felt this put him in a difficult situation…he was actually happy. He'd known for weeks how he felt about her and had a pretty good indication of her feelings; he just needed her to say something, even if it was through IM.

House knew he needed to talk Wilson, even if this normal go-to guy was a turncoat, helping the enemy. But he knew he could trust Wilson if he was completely honest with him. And maybe it was time to be honest.

That didn't mean he couldn't yank Wilson's chain a bit.


	61. Chapter 60

**Chapter 60**

"The results look promising; the chemo is doing much better than we thought and the cancer has shrunk substantially," Wilson smiled. He was so happy to give relief to the middle-aged Mrs. Tarkleson who had breast cancer. Mrs. Tarkleson was the picture of an ideal cancer patient: extremely optimistic; very strong…and on her way to a full recovery. Wilson was extremely confident in her prognosis.

"Thank you Dr. Wilson," she sighed with relief. Being strong 24/7 was extremely tiring, but hearing his news lifted some of the burden from her shoulders. "That is…just…wow. Thank you." She couldn't say anything else; she was so happy and thrilled.

Wilson, thrilled himself, leaned across the desk and took her hands. "You should be happy. It's excellent…"

THUD, THUD, CRASH! Both Wilson and Mrs. Tarkleson jumped when they heard the interruption…in the form of Wilson's three-legged best friend. They found House tapping on the glass door leading into the office from their shared balcony.

Mrs. Tarkleson, who'd had run-ins with Dr. House's infamous interruptions before, rolled her eyes. "Good grief; not him again. Doesn't he know anything about boundaries?"

Wilson shook his head as he stood up. "Absolutely nothing." He moved around the desk to stand facing Mrs. Tarkleson, between her and her view of the balcony door. Smiling brightly at her, he stuck his hand behind his back and shot House the bird. Wilson heard House's exaggeratedly horrified gasp. House proceeded pounding again…THUD, THUD, CRASH!

She looked around Wilson to find House waving his cane in outrage; she rolled her eyes. "He's not leaving, is he?"

Wilson shut his eyes; he already knew the answer. "Of course he isn't. You're scheduled for another appointment next week; be sure to get these supplements filled and start adding them to your regimen; they'll help you feel better." He grabbed handwritten prescription from his desk and handed it to her. Shaking her head, she stood up and, finding House watching them both then shot him the bird herself!

Now he really WAS horrified; what kind of a lady does that to a doctor, especially a cripple? But Wilson found it endlessly amusing and laughed as he escorted her to his office door. When she left and he shut the door, Wilson sighed and went to the door, unlocking it. The first words out of House's mouth were…

"Who does she think she is? A lady doesn't shoot no bird."

Wilson sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "And adults don't bang on glass doors for attention. I'm not at your beckon call."

"Of course you are; that's why you showed Miss Attitude the heel of your shoe. But what I have is so much better than cancer patients who are dying anyway."

"Mrs. Tarkleson isn't dying; she's actually beating breast cancer. Try that one on for size."

House ignored him and limped further into the office, crashing on the couch and putting his feet up on an arm of the overstuffed piece of furniture. "I've met someone new Jimmy."

Now Wilson was mad; here he had Romoly, whom he would've given his left foot for, and House was going on about someone else; won't he ever learn? "House, you can have Romoly; why have you moved on to someone else?"

"I've had cyber-sex with 'R'."

"'R'? Who's 'R'? And did you say cyber-sex?"

House nodded, completely matter-of-factly. "Her name is Lisa Romine but we don't use real names; she either goes by 'Romster' or just 'R' and I go by 'Peter'."

Wilson shook his head with disbelief; he simply couldn't believe what he was hearing. House was having cyber-sex with a woman he'd never met when he could have the real thing with someone like Romoly? Sometimes he never understood his friend. "Your code name is Peter; you're having cyber-sex with a complete stranger named 'R'. You don't even know if this woman IS a woman; she could be a man for all you know. How did you two meet? Oh, did you finally find a 'Masochists Need Love, Too' meeting?"

House shook his head and put his hands behind it, cradling his head in his open palms and staring at the tiled ceiling. He did all he could to hide his giddy from Wilson; after all, he knew exactly who 'R' was and she was very much a woman. "Trust me Jimmy; 'R' is a woman. And nope; in fact, I met her on a fan forum for New Yankee Workshop."

Wilson turned his confused look to House. "New Yankee Workshop has a fan forum? Wow…I didn't know they had that many fans."

"Neither did I but she seems to know her way around a band saw. I think its love."

"Then it definitely is a man; do women actually watch the New Yankee Workshop?"

"Sure they do. You should see some of the pictures of the women with their power tools; their tool belts slung low on their hips as they are bent over mitering a 2x4…gotta be one of the sexiest things a man could watch. And I mean it."

Wilson looked at him incredulously. "What about Romoly?"

"Oh Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy…" House looked at Wilson with eyes full of pity. "You don't get it; Romoly and I were never meant to be. I've moved on."

Wilson studied House then his eyes widened. "You're IN LOVE with Romoly! You told me so yourself! You're running from her because you know it's real. Stop being a wuss and tell her how you feel."

House shook his head. "Nope Jimmy. What I feel for 'R', well, THAT'S real; THAT'S true. Romoly and I will never see eye-to-eye."

"Well, I guess when one of the eyes belongs to The Terminator, determined to wipe out all decent life around him to satisfy his desires, it would be hard to see eye-to-eye."

"Oh…you mean me now, don't you?" He pointed to himself. "Oh you Jimmy…you so funny. I want to ask 'R' to meet in real life."

Wilson widened his eyes. "WHAT? Are you completely crazy? She could be an expert with a band saw because she's an ax murderer! And you can't run that fast; what if she trips you and slices off your head?"

"That's why you've got to come with me; in fact, tomorrow I'm going online again. We have our standard routine: small talk, great foreplay, the juicy good stuff then we talk about personal things. It loosens us up and breaks the ice. You can be there, sitting in and observing. You'll see for yourself what an awesome woman she is. Oh and what a great lover too. You'll be hornier than a bull in a pasture with the finalists of the "Miss Dairy Cow USA" contest."

After scrubbing that mental picture of the bull and the dairy cows from his mind's eye, Wilson quickly became overcome with curiosity and worry: he was very worried about his friend. House and this 'R' person apparently haven't even touched each other but House is calling her a great lover. Wilson wasn't convinced this was all kosher.

And while he was completely repulsed by the idea of cheating on Romoly with a cyber girl, the thought of being present during cyber-sex wasn't all that unappealing. He'd never had cyber-sex before; he'd never even known how it was done. If anything, it would be a learning experience. Wilson opened his mouth to agree when House suddenly sat up straight, that "I've got a BRILLIANT idea" look in his eyes.

House looked at Wilson. "Better yet: I told R that I was in love with my next-door neighbor. What if I told her that YOU are my next-door neighbor…um…Susie. Yeah, that's it, Susie. But you go by Silky Sue because you used to be a lingerie model to earn extra money."

Wilson looked at House as if he were nuts. "Have you fallen off your rocker? This is a stupid idea." Wilson paused. "Lingerie model, as in Victoria's Secret model?"

"You wish. I mean a lingerie model from those department store circulars. It's quite an honor really; not everybody can model Granny Panties and make them sexy. Besides, I can't make you a famous model; 'R' would get suspicious and start asking questions."

"Why did you say you were in love with your next door neighbor…unless you told her your neighbor was a beautiful, single librarian. Am I supposed to play Romoly?"

House shook his head. "Nope…I made her a construction engineer."

"That's not any more exciting than a librarian."

"But she needed to sound very smart, just like I am. And I did meet 'R' on the New Yankee Workshop fan forum; I had to sound like I lived and breathed shop dust and polyurethane. Having a love interest in the construction trade sounded smart at the time."

"And librarians are very smart; Romoly is one sharp woman."

House sighed. "Can we get off the subject of that woman please? Focus…you're Susie, a.k.a. Silky Sue, my construction engineer next-door neighbor and love interest. You've come by to borrow a…something mundane, it doesn't matter what, you make that up…and I've invited you to speak with my friend 'R'. One thing can lead to another and the sex can begin; we could all partake. What do you say?"

Wilson stood up and ran his hand through his hair. He had to admit: the more and more House described the situation, the more and more baffled he was by this whole thing: House was having cyber-sex with a woman he just met through a fan forum for the New Yankee Workshop. _You can't make this stuff up, _he thought.

"Why didn't you simply take the cyber-sex? Why did you feel the need to tell her you're in love with someone else?"

"Because she seemed to be clingy; I needed to establish the ground rules. When she found out I was in love with someone else and admitted she loved someone else herself, we were on common ground. She said she wanted to continue the sex because it was the release she needed. Me being me would never turn down sex-without-strings, no matter what shape or method it came in. So here we are."

Wilson had a nagging feeling House wasn't being honest with him; lately that was a feeling that seemed to accompany House wherever he went. But this situation was just too hard to pass up, if only to find out more about 'R'. "Fine. I'll sit in as Silky Sue but on one condition."

"And that would be?"

"You tell Romoly what you're doing."


	62. Chapter 61

**Chapter 61**

DING! "SILVER BULLET HAS JUST SIGNED IN"…

Romoly, sitting on the futon with her laptop, cracked her knuckles and typed:

_R: hey SB._

There was a long pause, almost as if he were hesitant to answer. Then…

_SB: yo. sorry bout that. i've gotta visitor with me._

_R: really? who?_

_SB: gorgeous next door neighbor, silky sue_

Romoly's head tilted with confusion. _He's in love with a woman named 'Silky Sue'? That's gotta be a pet name or nickname or stage name or something._

_SB: hi. this is silky sue though you can call me susie._

_R: hi. nice to meet you. i'm glad silky sue isn't ur legal name._

_SB: yeah me 2. it's my nickname; i'm a lingerie model for Macy's._

PAUSE.

_R: that's very interesting. but what's with the pauses? reluctant to talk to me?_

PAUSE.

_SB: nah she's just shy. ok, sue, this is the part where r & i have sex…_

PAUSE.

_SB: u have sex w/someone u don't know? she could be a he_

_SB: no offense_

_R: none taken. i'm a female and i'm desperate_

PAUSE.

_SB: thanx i think_

_R: don't tell me u aren't desperate…u started it; i just went along_

_SB: shut. it. ur cramping my style_

_R: u do that urself_

PAUSE.

_SB: so is he pathetic?_

_R: if i were to agree i'd be callin' myself pathetic…_

_R: yep; he's pathetic._

_R: we both are_

PAUSE.

_SB: thanx again…i think_

PAUSE.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

"Just what do you think you're doing?" House looked at Wilson as they sat at House's desk, the laptop open in front of them.

Wilson looked at House, surprised. "What? You wanted me to play along; I'm playing along. Don't expect me to be 100% in support of this insanity; I think the both of you are certifiable. And who is R, really?"

"Let me ask…"

_SB:_ _silky sue wants to know who you really are_

_R: who do u want me to b? i can be what u want me 2 b_

"Jimmy, you've now reached the foreplay portion of the conversation. It sounds like she wants to role play. Do you want to join in?"

Wilson rolled his eyes; he didn't want to be a part of this. "Not particularly; here, move over…" and 'Silky Sue' began typing

_SB: um, excuse me horny stranger…ur about 2 have sex with Peter here, aren't u? count me out._

_R: no, u don't have to go; we won't have sex._

PAUSE.

_SB: don't listen to her; if you need sex then i'm here._

_R: it sounds like she doesn't want u having sex w/a stranger; i think she likes u_

_SB: really? u think so?_

_R: yep. sue?_

PAUSE.

_SB: yep?_

_R: do you like Peter?_

PAUSE. She took a gamble asking that but, then, she needed to know where she stood because if they were to talk more she didn't want to seem to be treading on her territory by way of Peter. Though only casual for her she didn't want to go where she's not wanted.

_SB: not like that; i like girls._

"WILSON!" House shrieked when he saw what Wilson was typing. "My plan's ruined."

Wilson shrugged. "You should be happy…now it's likely she'll give you better sex because she'll feel sorry for you. Pity sex, while still pity sex, can be just what the doctor ordered. And since you won't fix anything with Romoly, you may as well get sex any way you can."

House thought about it; Wilson was right. This could be good. "Ok, ok. But stick around…you might learn something."

_SB: this is Peter; she left, had to go back next door._

_R: oh Peter, i'm so sorry. how do you feel?_

_SB: like a complete jackass. should i have seen that coming?_

_R: its not your fault_

_SB: i think i need a hug…_

Romoly, though feeling terrible about Peter's situation, found that so…cute. She wished she could do something…unless…

_R: i think we should meet_

House grinned and Wilson's eyes widened. "WHAT?" Wilson practically shouted. "Ax murderer! Ax murderer!" Ignoring him, House typed…

_SB: ok. where do you live?_

_R: Princeton, NJ_

Wilson's eyes widened. "She's from around HERE?" and pointed to the screen of the laptop.

_SB: small world; me 2_

_R: really? _

_SB: i really, REALLY need that hug. when do u want 2 do it?_

"Don't do it…don't do it…" Wilson chanted as he watched for his friend's next comment…

_R: i can't do it until i get out of this long cast; that's another week, next Tuesday.._

Wilson's jaw dropped. "This is ROMOLY?" House, guessing he could skirt the issue but judging from the look on Wilson's face, deduced it wasn't a good idea, simply nodded. "Well, that certainly explains all the unusual evasion. This has got to be the worst thing you've ever done, deceiving that girl like this. Do you think it's going to endure yourself to her? She's going to hate you so much she'll never give you another chance."

House ignored him.

_SB: k. what do u say we meet at the corner café by Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital? _

For some reason that sent up warning bells; why PPTH?

_R: sure but y ppth?_

"Yeah, Peter, why PPTH?" Wilson sarcastically asked.

_SB: because my sister's going into scheduled surgery that day and i wanted someplace close by._

"Oh that's low…" Wilson moaned, "…dragging in a non-existent sister to your shame. I feel sorry for the sister…"

"Shut up. One more word out of you and I'll…"

"You'll do what? Brain me with your cane?"

"That's beginning to sound like an really good idea right about now…"

_R: oh i'm sorry to hear about ur sister. k, will meet u there. 10:00 am?_

_SB: yep. _

_R: but how will i know who u r?_

_SB: there's a jukebox in the café. i'll play "angel of the morning". the guy standing next to the jukebox will be me._

"Angel of the Morning? Just how corny is this guy?" Romoly asked as she snorted with laughter.

"Angel of the Morning? Just how corny are you House?" Wilson asked incredulously.

House rolled his eyes. "Chicks dig that tune." He reached over and grabbed the phone, punching in some numbers.

_R: k. 10:00 tuesday. oh! gotta go my phone's ringing._

_SB: bye; c ya_

_R: yep bye._

"R HAS LEFT THE CONVERSATION"


	63. Chapter 62

**Chapter 62**

"Hello?"

"There's the happy cripple. Do you miss me?"

Romoly rolled her eyes but calmed her nerves. She didn't want to sound happy to hear him; it wasn't him she was happy to hear from. "What do you want?"

"Whooo! Sassy! I think you're feeling better. Does that mean you're up to playing my doctor to your naughty nurse?"

'_Why's it always sex with this turkey?'_ "What do you want?" she repeated.

House shrugged. "Just wanted to come by for lunch."

This surprised Romoly; he never calls he just comes by. Of course it IS his apartment…

"Ok. But why are you asking? It's your apartment."

"I just wanted to make sure I'm not going to be interrupting any get together of yours; I know what happens when I do that. Is it your knitting club? Sewing club?"

"No, actually it really is my sex group. If you hurry you'll make it in time for the oral quiz on multiple orgasms."

"No need; I'd ace that test every time; is your instructor Miss Churchill? She's a very tough but fair grader; don't say I didn't warn you, though."

"I was being facetious."

House sighed. "That's too bad…I'd love for you to demonstrate what you've learned."

"What is it with you? Why can't we have a normal, adult conversation?"

"I'm coming home for lunch; order a pizza." CLICK.

She sighed, looked at the receiver in her hand, and hung up with a headshake, bewildered at what was going on. She was excited about meeting Peter, even if she didn't want to pursue a relationship with him. At least he didn't treat her like Mr. Sunshine did.

And, once again, she reminded herself why she still wanted him…

The gentleness he showed her when they were together; she knew it wasn't just sex to either of them. Then why did he say it was?

The botched date. Granted, while it was bad she saw how much care he took to give her the best while Wilson suffered. It will be hard to forgive him for that but she knew the pink champagne and the roses in the dish were little, unconscious touches. She knew he was being thoughtful and showing how much he cared; he just would never admit it.

The broken leg. The care he showed her when he set it, his light touches and looks of concern, smoothed out his rough edges. She saw so much of what he was…and could be…she couldn't let him go. If he were just those rough edges, someone cranky and snarky and an all-around uselessly mean guy, she wouldn't have it. But he was the whole package to her.

She knew the reason he slept with Diana: the idiot was jealous about her going out with Wilson. Perhaps it was wrong for her to deceive him like that; perhaps it was callous of her to act like that, even though she did have a right to date other people. If she'd had been the bigger person they might not be in this mess. But she let that impetuousness, that act-by-her-emotions attitude get the best of her.

And they were too far apart now to simply apologize.

But what she feared most seemed to be the reality: they'd never be back together.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

As the week continued, creeping closer to Tuesday, the silent treatments, bickering, sarcasm and just plain meanness intensified: House mad at Romoly for them not being together and feeling the need to turn to everyone BUT him for companionship; Romoly mad at him for them not being together and her having the need to seek out a complete stranger for companionship.

And whenever they got into a fight, whatever it was about, she sunk deeper and longer into her conversations with Peter. By Monday, before Wanda was to pick her up from the apartment to take her to get her long cast off and get fitted for the lower-leg cast, the situation was so tense between them that Romoly was spending practically all day on the IM with Peter. She'd gone back to the silent treatment full-time, not saying a word to House when he was around. And for once he didn't protest that; to Romoly he seemed preoccupied. _Perhaps he's meeting a hooker later on; it would be unlike a guy like House to go that long without sex._

Ah…Peter was so sweet. And he knew the situation between them; he knew the six weeks was up the next day and that she would be moving out. He knew how she truly felt about Greg (she never used last names, not even her own) and had stated that, although he thought Greg was a jerk that didn't deserve her, he wanted her to be happy and would stick with her decision.

The conversation before her late doctor's appointment that day was the last one that 'R' and 'Peter' had before their face-to-face meeting…

"SILVER BULLET HAS JUST SIGNED IN"

_R: i can't talk long; getting the cast off soon_

_SB: yeah! u excited?_

_R: of course but i have mixed feelings_

_SB: y?_

_R: because Greg and I are fighting the worst we've ever fought; it's ugly_

_SB: y?_

_R: prob because i'm leaving and everything's still unsaid between us_

_SB: y?_

_R: you like that button today, don't ya?_

_SB: __J_

_R: he won't say anything_

_SB: y does it have 2 b him? be the bigger person and say the words first_

_R: even after he was the one to start everything?_

_SB: its obvious he's played flinch before and won; if he's lasted this long he can go longer. _

_R: but i'm good at flinch too_

_SB: i bet u r_

_R: and i hate losing_

_SB: i bet he does too which prob makes House the doctor he is_

_R: u think so? he'll love to talk to you; u 2 can gloat about being geniuses_

_SB: u think i'm a genius? thanks._

_R: i didn't say that; i think u think u r a genius_

_SB: ouch that hurt; what a way to insult the dude u r meeting tomorrow_

_R: gotta keep u on ur toes_

_SB: well that's not quite so easy for me so you'll have to try harder_

_R: k; i'll work harder to get you dancing_

_SB: don't dance but i do play twister_

_R: naked?_

_SB: of course, no other way to play_

_R: u sound very limber_

_SB: i am, considering…_

_R: considering what?_

_SB: gotta go but c u tomorrow at 10? wear something pretty_

_R: leather bustier, whip and hotpants?_

_SB: that'll work too __J_

_R: c ya_

"SILVER BULLET HAS LEFT THE CONVERSATION"

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

Romoly sat back in the leather sofa; did Peter have any idea he gave

himself away?

She never once mentioned Greg's last name: it had always been "Greg" or "that jerk" or "that rat bastard" or just about anything BUT House; after all, she'd taken great pains to make sure she never said his last name.

So…unless he'd had a run-in with House, which was entirely possible but not as probable as…

he IS House.

She didn't know what to say or think; she didn't know how he found out she frequented that fan forum…unless he snooped into her laptop. Now that did sound like something he'd do; he snooped into her diary after all.

The unknown feelings quickly changed to anger and built with every second as she grabbed her cell phone and punched out the numbers for Wilson.

"Dr. James Wilson."

"Is House IM'ing me as a computer programmer named Peter?" Wilson closed his eyes and quietly sighed. So she found out. Romoly smirked into the phone; she had her answer. And she knew she could count on him giving her the answer, directly or indirectly. "I take it from that pause that he is. I'm going to go out on a limb here and speculate that you're 'Silky Sue'. Now James, don't lie to me, but what do you know about this?"

"Yeah I'm 'Silky Sue'." And he gave her the entire story, of what he could piece together from the lies House told him and how he got suckered into House's dastardly scheme. He even gave what he thought were House's reasons for doing it. Wilson then asked, "What are you going to do about it?"

"Oh, I have a plan. It's been percolating for quite awhile but I wasn't quite sure how to bring it about; now I know what I have to do. And I'm going to need your help. But tomorrow's going to play out exactly how it should and I'm going to act surprised and hurt. It really shouldn't be that hard. You know? I am hurt because of the deception but I am really glad it was him. That way I don't have to break a nice guy's heart; if I need to break Peter's heart at least it won't be a kind, nice guy behind all those sweet words and awesome attitude. Besides, what I have planned next will top his by light years and will make me feel so much better than lashing out for this stupid, idiotic trick of his. Now, I need you to do several things to make my plan work…"


	64. Chapter 63

**Chapter 63**

Wanda and Romoly arrived at the hospital about an hour later for the old cast removal and the fitting for the new cast. The doctor that helped them six weeks previous, Dr. Spangler, wasn't around that day so after x-rays were taken of the leg they were escorted to a clinic examination room for the replacement doctor to see her. In the meantime, Romoly brought Wanda up to speed about the recent events, including the internet fan forum, the cyber-sex (at which she was incredibly embarrassed to admit but at which Wanda simply shook her head in wonder) and that 'Peter' was really Dr. House.

"NO!" Wanda's mouth dropped at the incredulousness of the situation. "Dr. House really did all that? Wow."

"Yeah, big wow…" Romoly sarcastically drawled. "…he deceived me! I had a friendship with someone I thought was one guy but it turned out to be another…"

"The one you REALLY want," Wanda said, nodding her head.

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. Honey, just cave. Give in to him. You'll both be happier."

"But don't you see?"

Wanda chuckled. "Apparently not."

"That's what he wants me to do. If I cave he'll hold it over my head about what a coward I am and that nobody could best him. He'll be even more incorrigible than he is right now. That's why I've gotta win, no matter how dirty I have to play."

"I didn't realize that he could be even more than he is now. Ok, fine; do what you gotta do."

"I do have one last trick up my sleeve. Wanna hear it?"

"I wouldn't miss it for all the tea in China."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

After waiting about ten more minutes, the entire band of new recruits, House and Wilson trooped into the room. Romoly's eyes widened at the sight of the noisy group in front of herself and Wanda. "It takes five doctors to change a cast?"

House smirked. "They've gotta learn and hands-on training is the best. You're the perfect specimen for my little experiments." He grinned like Dr. Frankenstein just before he flipped the power switch on his monster. "You can't run away."

"Neither can you; can we experiment on you?"

Wilson smiled behind House's shoulders then gave her a 'thumbs up' sign. She knew their plan was quickly set into motion. Her imperceptive nod was caught by House though who turned to see that Wilson had walked away. He turned back to Romoly. "What are you nodding at?"

Romoly pointed to her neck. "Neck strain from trying to see around your gynormous head. I need a muscle relaxant doc." She looked at the group who were laughing with relief; they were glad someone was standing up to the big galoot. She winked and said, "Ok, who's got the saw?"

Dr. Kutner grinned and looked her up and down. He appreciated a beautiful woman and had heard so much about her, especially after the cocktail party and what they saw in House's office. House narrowed his eyes at Kutner after he saw the look on his face but Kutner ignored it. Turning to the cabinets in the room, Kutner quickly located the saw used to cut through the heavy, hard cast and plugged it in. He turned back to her and grinned, holding up the saw and turning it on a couple of times, as if to show his power as a fur-bearing, power tools-using mammal. He felt special; he felt powerful. And he couldn't wait to get a look at her leg either. They were quite the talking piece in the various employee lounges. Course, they wouldn't have been had House not started the rumors himself. But that's neither here nor there.

"Now, Romoly, I'm going to…" Kutner began as he moved closer to Romoly who was sitting on the examination table.

"That's Miss Scott to you," House grumbled under his breath.

"No um…" Romoly smiled brilliantly and leaned forward to within inches of Kutner to read his nametag. "…Lawrence. Romoly is fine." She winked at him and he smiled stupidly. She looked at House who clearly wasn't happy with the interchange. "Dr. House, it's ok: I've slept with him. I can now call him by his first name."

Kutner's face paled and he almost dropped the saw. Turning to House, he saw that House wasn't even paying him any attention.

"Lawrence…can I call you Larry?" Romoly asked, all but fluttering her eyelashes at him. There really wasn't a need to do that anyway…he was ready to do whatever it took to make her happy. If sleeping with the patient made the patient more comfortable he was all for it.

"Sure Romoly," He grinned which dropped when House cleared his throat. Straightening his shoulders, he said, "Ok, Romoly, you can sit up or lay back down. It's up to you."

"If you were wearing a skirt I'd say lie down and open wide," House said, his eyes studying her short shorts. He ignored the gasps around the room, none of which belonged to Romoly. She was taking the whole thing as best as she could…by ignoring him.

"I'll sit up Larry." She threw him a melodramatic look of worry. "Will this hurt?"

"Oh for God's sake," House muttered, hating what he was seeing. She was simpering; House hated a simpering woman. "Just shut up and let him do it. It'll go quick."

Romoly turned to House. "Yeah, that's what Janice told me the other day about you. She was giving me sex advice about you."

Wilson, who'd returned, choked at the reference and House had to fight not to smile.

Taub was confused. "Janice? Who's Janice?"

"It doesn't matter; just get on with it already."

Kutner positioned the drill on the top inside of the long cast, the middle of her thigh. "Ok Romoly, you will feel the pressure and it's going to tickle a bit but try not to move."

Romoly nodded. "Ok. I'll be fine; I'm just so excited to get out of this cast. I'll be ready for Peter tomorrow."

Wanda's inhalation of air was only heard by Romoly who smiled. She looked around the room: the three fellows smiled as if what she said didn't mean what it really meant; Wilson, who was standing behind House, looked at Romoly with wide eyes and a huge grin; and House had a slight twinkle in his eyes but nothing else. She knew he didn't know she knew…

WHIRRRRR…the saw began and Kutner slowly cut through the cast, moving the saw with precision that Romoly truly appreciated. "Who's Peter?" Thirteen asked.

"My IM buddy. We've never met but, being cooped up in the schmuck's" she pointed to House "apartment, I needed something to do. We're meeting tomorrow and I wanted to walk into my meeting versus being rolled in."

Taub looked between House and Romoly; he knew about how preoccupied House had been with Romoly and he was surprised to see how stoic House was. Unless…

"Oh, Miss Scott, you'll have lots of mobility with this new cast. You can now have sex…" his voice trailed off as he looked at Romoly. She looked at him with a bit of surprise, then looked at House who wore an evil grin, then at Wilson who watched the reaction with surprise. Taub was now suspicious but decided long ago he didn't want to know about House's personal life. It was hard enough working with the man. So he simply let it go.

Within moments, the cast was off and Romoly sighed with relief. Her leg could breathe and it felt so much better. "Ok, Miss Scott," Thirteen said. "The x-rays show the leg is healing beautifully and you're ready for the cast. I'll be putting the cast on today."

Romoly shrugged but House shook his head. "Nope. Thirteen can't touch your leg." Romoly looked at Thirteen who paled and moved away.

"Why?"

"Because she'll try to jump you; she's bi you know."

Romoly rolled her eyes. "Oh good grief. That's none of your business. Personally I think you just want to do it yourself. If you want to fondle my leg then just say so. Of course I'll tell you no but at least you'll be honest about it." She turned to Wilson. "You cast it."

Now House was mad. He'd have preferred Thirteen do it; that's fun to watch. But Wilson? No way. "Absolutely not; Thirteen will do it."

Romoly shook her head. "Nope, only James. I don't know what the big deal is: he's a great doctor; he knows what he's doing. Oh, and he's dating Diana."

House perked at this. "He is? Since when?"

"Since that book club session you walked in. I still don't know why you stormed in and shouted, "LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED! I'VE BROUGHT THE CONDOMS AND I GOT DIBS ON THE BLUE ONES!" What possessed you to think of something that stupid?" Romoly shook her head.

The duckies looked at House with wide eyes but he ignored them, his attention focused on his friend. "You are?" House turned to Wilson who nodded, a smile on his dimply face. House grinned like the horndog he was. "She's good, isn't she?"

Wilson, rolling his eyes and moving to the cabinet to grab all the necessary implements for the casting, said, "Not that I would tell you. But she did say I was much better than you were. Your technique needs improvement."

"Amen to that one," Romoly said, perhaps a bit too quickly to be convincing.

The ducklings were tittering so it was time to get them out of there. "Ok children, we're cutting the class short. Go back to your kickball game…" he pointed to Kutner, "…your erasure cleaning…" Taub "…and…whatever girls like you did when you were a kid." Thirteen rolled her eyes at him and they left, clearly happy to get out of there. It was clear House wasn't moving so Romoly began crying… "MAKE…(sniffle)…HIM…(hiccup)…LEAVE!"

House's eyes widened and he held his hands up. "Alright, alright. I get it. I'm going." He narrowed his blues as he shuffled out of the room.

Romoly instantly calmed and smiled at Wilson. Lowering her voice she said, "You better hurry up. Did you talk to everyone?" Wilson nodded as he prepared the plaster for the cast. "And what did they say?"

Wilson whispered, "They want to talk to you tomorrow, after your meeting with, um…" he looked at Wanda, who'd moved to stand beside Wilson. "…Peter."

Romoly smiled and waved her hand. She whispered back, "She knows everything James." Wilson looked relieved and smiled at the older woman who wore a look of conspiracy on her face. "How long James?"

"Certainly by the end of the week. We'll call you when we're ready."

She smiled and nodded, still whispering. "Thank you so much for helping me. I can't do this without you."

POUND, POUND. "What's going on in there?"

Romoly grinned at Wilson. "You aren't missing anything; I'm just watching James and Wanda having sex on the floor."

PAUSE. "Liar. Wilson screams when he has sex."

They all sighed with exasperation; they knew he'd make a fuss so they invited him to come back in. When they were done a short and (thankfully) uneventful time later, Wilson handed her a set of crutches and told her to take it easy but to practice.

"After all, you've gotta be ready for PETER tomorrow." House smirked. Romoly rolled her eyes and they left, Wanda helping her limp out of the hospital.


	65. Chapter 64

**Chapter 64**

The night and the morning before the meeting with 'Peter', House made Romoly's life a living hell: he was nagging, feisty and just plain annoying.

The culmination of it all occurred the next morning. It was especially bad because Romoly could now get in and out of the tub without his help…and she'd been very verbal about that point. She'd limped to the bathroom, carrying her articles of clothing. House suddenly appeared, seemingly expecting to help. She threw him an odd look. "What are you doing?"

He looked at her as if she were nuts. "I'm helping you."

She pointed to the half cast, which wasn't nearly as bothersome as the long cast. "I can do it just fine. I have plastic bags to put over it while I shower; I can get around. I don't need your help."

This hurt House more than he expected it to. "Oh really?"

"Yeah really. So leave."

"So, is this 'Peter' going to help you now? What else is he going to 'help' you with?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" _As if you don't already know…_

House huffed with impatience. Though he, himself, was 'Peter', House was jealous that she was excited to see this fictional character versus the man standing in front of him.He didn't want to be jealous of 'Peter' but there House was, in flesh and blood, a man wanting her so badly he couldn't see straight, and all she wanted was this 'Peter', his alter, yet fictional, ego. "What about this?" He strode to her and grabbed her face, perusing it before his gaze landed on her lips and he pulled her to him, making her lose her balance and they crashed to the bathroom floor, her lying on top of him, landing with a heavy "thud". Romoly began to futilely squirm to get out of his grasp but gasped when his tongue found hers.

It was as if her oh-so-needy body took over and she gave in with a gusto he wasn't expecting. She moaned in his mouth as his hands left her face and went to her breasts, kneading them urgently, stoking the fire in her belly that had never dimmed despite how hard she'd tried.

"Oh gaw…" she couldn't complete the word as his long fingers covered her panties. She opened her mouth to grunt her pleading approval when he suddenly removed his mouth from hers and pushed her shoulders, moving out from under her. He stood up, looked down at her confusion as she sat up, and spat out, "Have fun with 'Peter'. I bet he likes a woman too afraid to feel and unwilling to forgive and forget." With that he limped away and out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Stunned by everything that just happened, Romoly sat on the bathroom floor and cried. And it was at that moment, sitting on the bathroom floor, that she wondered if she'd gone too far. House had never seemed like an impetuous guy; he seemed to have a reason for everything he did. Perhaps there was a reason behind what happened with Diana.

She was going to finish what she started; she was going to win. But she wondered if she shouldn't have started it in the first place.


	66. Chapter 65

**Just because you folks are lucky you get one more chapter for tonight. And, as you can probably tell, this story is coming to an end. Just a few more chapters. Thank you SO MUCH for reading my (not so) little fic. **

**Chapter 65**

The cab dropped her at the café 15 minutes early and she limped inside to find it very crowded. The only table she could find was in the far back, without a view of the jukebox that sat beside the front door. She didn't want to be that far away but she wasn't about to stand for fifteen…or perhaps longer…minutes. She sighed and sat down. A handsome waiter with a big smile and bigger biceps showed up very quickly.

"Good morning. Can I get you anything?"

She quickly grabbed the menu. "I'll have a tall stack of pancakes and a cup of coffee with lots of cream."

"You got it."

She looked at her watch for the 1000th time and it finally struck 10:00. Stirring her third cup of coffee and taking another bite of the fluffy delicious breakfast item, she found herself nervous. She wasn't expecting herself to be nervous. _It's just the coffee; yeah, that's it. That's why my hands are clammy and my heart's racing._

Or it could've been that nasty scene in the bathroom that morning.

_Would he even show up after that? I wouldn't blame him if he did…yet it wouldn't be like him to do that. He doesn't know that I know he's 'Peter' so he has to show up._

_Right?_

JUST CALL ME ANGEL OF THE MORNING, ANGEL; JUST TOUCH MY CHEEK BEFORE YOU LEAVE ME, BABY

Her heart fluttered as she heard the words. Taking a deep breath she stood up, grabbed her crutches and slowly maneuvered around the crowded mid-morning crowd to the jukebox…where she didn't see House. At all. Looking around, people were ignoring the beautiful woman with the slightly sad smile on her face. He had stood her up, at least partially anyway. He had to have been somewhere because the music was playing.

Hobbling to the jukebox, she caught sight of a solid blue gift bag. With a questioning look, she looked around but still didn't see anyone she should've been seeing. Grabbing it, she looked inside and saw crumpled pieces of newspaper and other assorted papers. Shaking her head with disbelief, she leaned against the jukebox and finally found what was inside…

It was an action figure. Not just any action figure: it was the "Deluxe Librarian Action Figure". The librarian, in a red suit with black horn-rimmed glasses and severe hair bun, was holding her index finger in a "SHHH" motion. It also came with accessories: computer, books and even a book cart. Taped to the outside of the action figure package was a note that said,

_R,_

_As much as I'd love to meet you, I don't think we should. It was a bad idea because you belong with the doctor. I still don't know what you see in such a jerk but to each their own. _

_I think we need to cut off our…whatever this is…right here, right now. Things'll get all weird because you'll just fall in love with me and you'll be torn between the doctor and me. And I don't want to get caught up in it. I don't like you like that and I don't want a crazy doctor with a cane to hunt me down in the night for something that isn't there. _

_Go to him. Tell him how you feel. Stop fighting him; I'm sure he's got a reason for everything he's done and you might be punishing him needlessly. I'm sure if you talk to him you'll find out what's really going on._

_Best of luck to you and I hope you two make your way to each other._

_All the best,_

_SB_

_PS I found this and thought you might get a kick out of it._

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

For all the crazy things she'd seen in her life, Romoly had never seen anything like this before: a fictional character breaking off contact with a real person so she could go to the real person controlling the fictional character in the first place. Her head spun from the implications. And the action figure. She had no idea one existed. Though it certainly played into that stupid librarianism misconception, it was absolutely perfect for this occasion. She'd never been so honored to receive such a gift.

Now that he was back to manipulating her, she didn't feel quite so bad for what would be coming next. Despite everything that was said that morning, he wasn't giving up. She wouldn't let him have the last word...and everything was about to work in her favor...


	67. Chapter 66

**Chapter 66**

She didn't want to go home right away. Getting into a waiting cab, she opened her phone. "James? It's Rom."

Wilson looked at his watch. It was 10:25. "What's going on? Where's House? Why are you calling me this early?"

"'Peter' never showed. He played the music and left me a gift but he never showed."

"Why that lousy…"

"James, he left me a note that I want you to read. Can I come to the hospital?"

Wilson nodded then remembered she couldn't see him. "Absolutely. But don't come to my office; he'll know you're here. Meet me in the neonatal department, by the newborn nursery. I have a hiding place he doesn't know about. We can talk there."

"Ok. Thank goodness this café is so close to PPTH; I'm just now pulling into the emergency room parking lot."

"I'll see you soon."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

Wilson, making triple sure he wasn't being followed, made his way downstairs to neonatal, where he found Romoly watching the babies with a smile on her face. Wilson, enjoying her wistful moment, snuck up behind her and smiled. "You know, if you and House ever had a child it would be born with a cane in one hand and a book in the other. But at least it would be a very, very smart child. I just hope it would get your looks and personality. Poor kid if it turned out like House."

Romoly, at first startled by his sudden appearance, grinned at the thought. "If I ever wanted kids with House and if it turned out like House we'd have to hide them away from the world. The world just isn't ready for another House is it?"

Wilson chuckled. "Absolutely not." He pointed to his right and said, "Follow me. You've got some 'splainin' to do Lucy." Romoly grinned and hobbled on her crutches behind Wilson to a tiny, quiet conference room with only a five-person conference table and chairs in the middle. She settled down with a sigh, placing the crutches next to her. Wilson sat across from her, throwing a manila file folder down in front of him.

"Well, this is what happened, in a nutshell…" and she told him about the events, showing him the librarian action figure. That earned Romoly a chuckle from Wilson.

"That's one thing about House: he's got quite the creative mind. Now, what's this note you wanted me to read?" She passed it to him and, when he'd finished it, Wilson just sat back in the chair, shaking his head. "He's not very subtle, is he? That's gotta be the most unique turn of events I've ever seen: a fictional character breaking up with a real person so it can go for the real person controlling the fictional character? Wow! Ok, I'm confused now…"

Romoly shook her head. "Don't be confused; I thought the same thing. I have my own thoughts about what it means; what are your thoughts?"

"House is telling you to back down and give up. While he loves the game if it becomes dull he'll lose interest real quick. He hasn't yet but I wouldn't push it. The six weeks are up; you're long cast is off. I say end it now."

She nodded and knew he was right; she'd also been thinking that herself. "I'm just waiting on you. Have you heard anything?"

"Yep; as a matter of fact," he opened the folder in front of him and pushed it to her. "It's finalized and it will be a done deal tomorrow afternoon. Be back here at 3:00."

Romoly, completely surprised, took the folder and read through the documents. It all looked to be in order. Now how would it play out? "Wow…that was quick. James, how will it be done?"

Wilson grinned. "It's quick because it's something that is really, really wanted. And it's going to work out like this…"


	68. Chapter 67

**Chapter 67**

The next morning proceeded as if nothing were amiss…until it was time for House to leave for work. House, who hadn't even asked Romoly how the meeting with Peter went (like he really had to), was putting his stuff together when he started humming 'Angel of the Morning'. Romoly stopped brushing her hair and hobbled out of the bedroom, down the hall to the living room to find him stuffing things into his backpack. She stayed at the door while he continued whistling…and the strangest feeling of constriction hit her chest.

"I've always loved that song. Why are you humming it?"

House shrugged as he grabbed his iPod and stuffed it into his backpack. "It's a nice song."

"Yeah but it's not a HOUSE song."

House rolled his eyes and turned to her, leaning his hip against the back of the leather sofa. "Stop putting me in a box. It's damned annoying."

She stepped back, surprised to be snapped at like that. "Sorry. You'll be happy to know Peter didn't show up yesterday. I'm surprised you didn't ask last night."

House turned away but not before she caught sight of the grin he was trying to hide. She grinned herself which only grew when he coughed to hide his reaction. "Oh really? I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah I bet you are."

House stopped, composed himself and turned back to her, this time taking a long look at her shining hair, clean face and comfortable ensemble. "I see you're getting better and it's been six weeks. I think you should leave."

She was rather surprised by his forwardness but didn't show it. "That's fine; I didn't want to be here in the first place. Besides, I evicted Janice two days ago and all my stuff's in my apartment."

"Then why are you still here?"

She shrugged. To be honest she didn't know why she was still there. She just was.

When House didn't get an answer, he turned his back to her and hobbled to the front door. Opening it, he stopped, turned to Romoly, and said, "Move out today." With that he closed the door without another look back. And she was glad what was happening would happen soon…she thought he just reached the end of his tether. It was too bad he was too stubborn to admit what he wanted; all of that trouble would've been avoided.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

"Jimmy, don't you get it? I've left it up to her; the ball's in her court now. I've got her right where I want her and nothing she can do can turn the tables around. I had her so dependent on this Peter bloke that I held all the power." He grinned at Wilson and bowed low. "The master manipulator has won once again. She told me this morning she evicted Janice and could've moved out sooner. I asked her why she didn't and she couldn't give me an answer. Don't you get it? She's making it harder on herself. If she'd simply admit that she'd want me that would be enough."

Wilson rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of his words. "Would it be enough? And what makes you think she's through? What makes you think she's given up? You're acting as if you've won the war. The war might not be over; she might surprise you. What if she has something else up her sleeve? And why don't YOU give up?"

House shrugged. "It would have to be pretty big for me to concede defeat. Very, very big…" House sat down to his laptop and opened his hospital email. The first email that popped up said, "IMPORTANT MEETING AT 3:00". "Oh crap," House sighed and shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "Cuddy's called a hospital-wide meeting." He looked at his watch. 2:45. "It's not too late to blow this joint. What do you say we catch a movie?"

Wilson shook his head. "Nope, not this time buddy. We got into a whole load of hurt the last time we skipped. Remember she threatened five more hours of clinic duty if we skipped the next meeting? Guess what? It's the next meeting. Is it really worth five more clinic hours?"

House knew he was absolutely right; five more clinic hours a week wasn't worth the latest Denzel Washington blockbuster…though not by much. House sighed. "Fine. But you SOO owe me."

Wilson rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the door, indicating House to follow him. House whined as he picked up his cane and followed him.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

When they arrived at the very small auditorium, the only spaces available were in the front two rows. "I'm not sitting up front." House whined.

Wilson smirked. "It's a great view up Cuddy's skirt."

House stopped whining and grinned. "Good point. Let's go." Wilson shook his head and followed his friend to the front.

And none too soon because Cuddy and the other hospital board members walked out onto the stage just as they sat down. Cuddy took the podium while the board members took the chairs behind her. She turned on the microphone and tapped it, to make sure it was on.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. This special hospital-wide meeting was called because of a special donation made to the hospital. It is rather substantial and affects the entire hospital, though two major departments of this hospital more than the others…"

House momentarily tuned her out to lean over to Wilson. "Oh great, another cancer endowment. One more the kids will have their own Range Rovers to chauffer them back and forth."

"Shut up and listen," Wilson hissed. House rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Cuddy.

"…the donation came out of nowhere and, while quite unusual, it was given with much care and received with a great deal of appreciation. Now, let me welcome the donor…"

House sat back, ready to fall asleep during the droning of yet another fat wallet big wig when he heard…

"…Miss Romoly Scott."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

Romoly took a deep breath, smoothed her expensive Armani skirt suit, grabbed her crutches and smiled at her lawyer, Jack Thompson, who smiled as well and pointed the way from behind the curtain. She carefully took one crutched step after another and didn't take long to find House and Wilson sitting on the front row. Wilson clapped, along with the rest of the auditorium, and shot her a smile of encouragement.

Then she saw House…and he looked as pale as Casper, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide, total disbelief and panic settling over his face. This only made her smile wider to the audience and gave as much gusto to a crutched walk as she could give. They finally got to the podium and waited until the audience finished clapping before beginning.

"Good afternoon. My name is Romoly Scott and this is my lawyer and friend, Jack Thompson." She pointed to him who smiled at everyone. Jack handed her a piece of paper with a nod of encouragement. "Thank you Jack." She smoothed it on the podium then looked up.

"Before I go any further I want to thank you for this opportunity, not only to give you this money but to speak with you today. I understand a few years ago there was another big donor, one who, shall I say, had more capitalistic views of how the money should've been used. I heard it created quite an uproar and upheaval throughout the hospital." The audience whispered, nodded and shivered when they remembered Edward Vogler. "But I have not bought the hospital; I have no designs on how to run it. The donations, totaling $60 million dollars…" the audience gasped and House's loud gulp could be heard on the stage. Romoly looked at him and smiled; he had enough gumption and frame of mind to narrow his eyes at her. She winked slightly and went back to her speech. "…are made because of situations and people who have impacted my life."

She paused then took a deep breath. "The first designation, in the amount of $15 million, will be made to the psychological department in memory of my fiancée, mystery writer Clifton James." More whispering swept through the audience; everyone seemed familiar with him. Romoly pulled a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and dabbed her nose; just thinking about him always made her cry. "I'm sure you're all familiar with him, how he was killed by snipers as he held his fiancée hostage in that hotel room almost two years ago. Well, I was that woman and afterwards it was determined he had an undiagnosed mental illness. I can't tell you how many times I've asked myself if I missed warning signs; if we even KNEW about warning signs, events might've been different. And paranoid schizophrenia is such a gray area. More research must be done, more literature must be written, more efforts must be made on behalf of the diagnosed patients, their loved ones and the undiagnosed as well. This is a terrible, horribly torturing illness that affects everyone, not simply the individual. I want to make another person's life a little better by helping in this capacity."

She paused and took a drink from the glass on the podium as a round of applause greeted her. The audience was clearly in favor of this. "The second donation is a general donation of $30 million to the hospital for the underlying, nitty-gritty expenses of running the hospital. I realize how many indigent and helpless patients you have. It's important they are helped and shown how much we, as a society, value their welfare."

Romoly paused one last time and waited for the crowd to stop clapping. Clearing her throat she took another drink as she said, "Finally, this last donation, in the amount of $15 million, will be given to the department that has the most puzzling and complex patients you can think of. It's just too bad the department head is a complete jerk." This brought a round of tittering as House sat up straight and nearly flew out of his seat to her. It wasn't supposed to be like this; she was supposed to roll over and take it all. Unfortunately for him, this donation situation was one situation that made HIM roll over and take it instead of her.

"The last donation will go to diagnostics. I want them to have a bigger office with their own equipment; I want the department to stop ruining other people's equipment and stop getting into the rest of the hospital's way."

That brought a round of applause, mostly of relief. From the sound of it, it answered the prayers of many a doctor in that small auditorium. Once the applause died down, Romoly smiled. "As I said earlier, I have no interest in running the hospital; you have an excellent person doing that already." Romoly looked at Cuddy who looked both grateful and embarrassed. Romoly turned back to the audience. "I'm not from money; I inherited Clif's estate shortly after his death. I would prefer him alive to having this money but, since it didn't happen that way, I know he'd want the money to go to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I have my own life; I still work for a living. I enjoy my job and don't want to live extravagantly. I simply want to live happily and help others. And I know this money will be used for just that: helping others. Once again, thank you very much for your time. I greatly appreciate it."

She stepped back…and received a standing ovation. Looking at Cuddy, she said over the din of the audience, "Thank you very much."

Cuddy came over and gave her a hug. "No, thank you." She pulled away from Cuddy and looked at Jack, his pride in his client glowing from every part of his face. She looked out and saw Wilson who looked so proud of her. And House? He was gone; he'd left when she least expected it. She frowned and looked at Wilson who went to the edge of the stage. Romoly limped over and looked down. "Where did he go James?"

"Try the roof. Here, I'll take you."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

They managed to escape before the crowd could hoard around them and went to the elevator. Romoly went to punch the button when she heard shuffling behind her. Looking around, she saw House leaning against a nurse's station, a fierce scowl on his face.

"We need to talk."


	69. Chapter 68

**AND THIS CHAPTER IS THE REASON I CHANGED THE RATING…**

**Chapter 68 **

She eyed him. "Not here. Meet me at the apartment in ten minutes."

He looked at her with flashing blue eyes. "Fine." He turned on his heel and walked away from her. Romoly sighed and turned to Wilson.

"How do you think that went James?"

"Mmm…hard to say. Except that you blindsided him. Be careful though; don't overstep your bounds. He'll hate you for it, just like he'll hate you for this. But he'll only hate you until you give him that department he wants then he'll love you."

Romoly sighed. "Can you give me a ride? I didn't drive."

Wilson chuckled as he nodded.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

"Good luck…you're gonna need it."

"Don't I know it?" She sighed and hobbled to the front door of the apartment building. Pulling out her keys, she moved to unlock the apartment door when the door flew open to reveal a sneering House. He certainly didn't look happy. At all.

"I see your partner in crime drove you home. Very fitting Bonnie; how much did Clyde" he pointed toward the street, "know about this little stunt of yours?"

She shrugged and hobbled around him. "He arranged it all. He's such a wonderful man." Romoly went to the dresser and began pulling out clothes; she hated tailored suits, even if they are Armani.

"Yeah, so wonderful he chose you over me, his bestest bud of years. Why is that?"

Romoly stopped and turned around. "Because he's sick of all the shit you've pulled over the years. He hated that stunt in the restaurant; he wanted you to get everything you deserved. And now that you finally have he can be very, very happy. You know…" she mused as she hobbled to the bedroom door on her way to the bathroom… "…now that I own your department I can do whatever I want with it. I can yank your fellows; I can force you to paint the walls pink; I can even make James your boss."

He narrowed his eyes and slinked closer, scaring her with his serious look. "You wouldn't…"

"You have no way of knowing that. I can do whatever I want, remember?" Romoly stopped at the bathroom door and turned around. "I won, fair and square. You have nothing to best me with now; there's no way you can manipulate yourself out of this one. But…if you say the magic words…I will step completely out of the way and you can have your department however you want, with Cuddy's approval of course."

House knew exactly what she wanted; after all, she'd stated it over and over in her diary. She wanted him to tell her his emotions, those feelings that went beyond the surface sensations. But Cameron already manipulated him once with a date; he wasn't going to make a commitment based on what Romoly held over him. Even if he did love her.

"I don't have a clue about what you're talking about."

Romoly rolled her eyes. "Oh yes you do; you read it all in the diary." He opened his mouth to protest but held up a hand. "Zip it. I know you read my diary. You aren't very good at pulling one over on me…PETER." With that she shut the bathroom door in his face. She hadn't planned on ever tipping that hand but she realized that if she didn't tell him how much she knew she'd be too vulnerable later on. He needed to know what she was capable of knowing.

Now House seethed even more at Wilson but he didn't hate him; after all, if Wilson could rat House out to Tritter and House still hang out with him, this was small potatoes. "Wilson told, didn't he?"

Romoly carefully unzipped the skirt and hung it on the door. Sitting on the toilet, she gathered her senses as she changed into the comfortable yoga pants and tank top she always wore. "Nope. You made a mistake by calling yourself HOUSE instead of GREG. I never once referred to you as House but you said it in our last IM. I'd have never known otherwise."

He suddenly remembered that and cussed under his breath. "And what about the money, huh? You never told me about that."

She stood up and opened the door. No matter how mad he was, he always took time to undress her with his eyes. "I told you about the money. In my diary."

"I stopped believing what you wrote in there with the group sex entry."

She hobbled around him to the living room and plopped down on the leather sofa. Grabbing for the remote, she pointed it at the TV. "That's not my fault you read into it what you wanted. I never once said it was a group sex meeting. YOU misconstrued that into what you wanted to read. That's just not my problem."

He marched in front of the TV and turned if off; for once he wasn't going to avoid this. For once in his life he was going to finish this. "Fine; you tell me why you went out with Wilson and we'll call it even."

"And I can go home?"

"Nope."

She stood up and moved around him, if only to get away from his closeness. "I have more money you know; I can donate more to your department and have more power."

"Lady, that ain't gonna work for me; I've already been manipulated once into a date and it was ugly. You can't do it now. You better come up with something better than just money because money alone ain't gonna hack it."

"Oh yes it will; it will prevent you from doing what you love. Hell, besides withdrawing my donation I'll even have them REDUCE your budget from what it is now. You'll be able to do NOTHING. Is that what you want?"

And she'd stooped to threatening. He didn't like that at all; that's not how to play the game. But he wasn't going to be the first to crack, he just wasn't. He moved even closer and stood in front of her, his hot breath fanning her face…and he saw the teeniest crack in her defenses.

And he knew he had her. While he couldn't top the donation and he couldn't talk around her, he could use his mouth…his hands….his fingers….whatever it took to put them on a more level playing field.

Truth of the matter was he was so horny himself he was so close to just admitting defeat so they could be together. He knew she was ready to break and he was past the breaking point. But he was going to try one more time. Lifting his fingers to her smooth shoulder, he traced along the curve, down to her bicep. She flinched out of his touched and hobbled away. _Maybe it's not going to work._

"NO! Sex is just that, sex. It's not love. That's not what I want from you." Her voice lowered with each word.

"What do you want?"

"NO! I'm not doing it like this; you will not manipulate me, use me, make me do all the work while you reap the benefits. There will be reciprocity; there will be meeting halfway. You're like a leach that sucks what you want and moves on. I will not do that again."

He'd get her talking… "Did Clif do that?"

"NO!" That seemed to be her favorite word. "I will not talk about him; I won't talk about how similar the both of you are in so many ways. I will not talk about how much he made me love him, just like…" _Uh-oh…how did that happen?_ She looked at House whose face broke for the first time from that ugly scowl he'd been wearing.

"Just like…what?" He paused and he moved closer. Romoly looked into his eyes and saw a light she'd thought she'd never seen come from him before. She shook her head and started to hobble away but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. "Just like…what?" he repeated as his gaze inadvertently moved to her mouth.

She sighed. She knew she was a goner. "Just like I love you."

He grinned and pulled her to him, finding her mouth amidst the hissing of the electricity all around them. Her arms went around his shoulders as he pulled her closer…and she knew she heard what she'd been dying to hear from that night of the cocktail party: "I love you Romoly."

She pulled away and looked up at him. "What? Say it again…"

He shrugged and looked at her open mouth. "I love you Romoly."

He had to have the last word, didn't he?

Romoly smiled. She wasn't going to allow him the last word. "I know. Now take me to your bed," she murmured and he grunted with agonized anticipation. It had been a quick, yet painfully slow, six weeks, one he'd never hope to repeat in his lifetime. And he was about to do whatever it took to keep that from happening again.

Wrapping his strong right arm around her waist, he supported her as they went to the bedroom, House continually kissing her neck and whispering gibberish in her ear. When they got to the bedroom, he helped her on the bed. Though the shorter cast was much less bulky and easier for her to move, it still made for an interesting situation. He usually liked his women on top but it wasn't going to happen here.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his t-shirt to reveal a dusting of graying hair. Sitting up with her legs spread out in front of her, Romoly moaned as she moved her hand across it, remembering the feel of the hair beneath her hand and the goose pimples she left in her hand's wake. He placed his hands on her sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her satin-confined breasts. Without removing his eyes from hers, he moved his hands up, over her armpits, to her arms, lifting them above her head. She watched, hands in the air, as he moved his hands back down her sides to the hem of her short t-shirt. House lifted it off her body with an amazingly quick ability, her hands moving to his hair, weaving them through his graying locks.

He returned his gaze to her breasts, the hard nipples straining against the satin of the magenta bra, the same one from their almost-encounter in the library. If she'd had been any more excited they'd have pierced clean through. House lightly traced the woven patterns of the bra then stopped at the nipples, toying with them. She gasped with agony, her internal three-alarm-fire spreading and intensifying. He leaned forward and stuck his face between her breasts, taking a long drag of her floral aroma mixed with a tinge of hormonal pre-sex. Goose pimples covered her body as he continued to breathe in her essence, cupping her breasts.

"Take it off; I need your mouth on me," she commanded with the little breath she possessed. He grunted as his rough hands snagged the smooth satin on their journey to her back. The bra tightened, then quickly loosened and House pulled it off quickly and expertly, his gaze turning quickly to her breasts. Her head fell back involuntarily as his mouth latched onto her right nub, his tongue tracing the hard tip and around the areola as her moan grew in intensity when the cool air hit the warm lather. Romoly's chest moved up and down as her breath intensified with his mouth on the right nipple, his fingers teasing the left one. He quickly switched breasts as she threaded her fingers through his hair, pushing herself deeper into his mouth.

When he had her whimpering, he tilted her back as his mouth moved to the valley between her perfect breasts to her stomach, leaving a wet trail to her navel, the cool air also chilling that as well. He looked up and saw her eyes on his, watching him in a haze. His gaze quickly went to her mouth as he laid a flattened palm on her abdomen and slowly inched it under her yoga pants, quickly feeling her hot dampness through her panties.

Her breath hitched and she broke out into spontaneous, improvised poetry, not quite realizing it was the poetry written on her heart from their first meeting, then refined with each subsequent meeting…

Your lips have burnt

A brand on my heart.

Your eyes are like

True crystalline works of art.

He stopped breathing and he moved his mouth to her lips, thereby momentarily ceasing her poetry. "You're trying to end this quick, aren't you?"

She smiled and ran the back of her hand over his face, her eyes taking in his pained, yet playful, look. "I'm just finally telling you what you mean to me. Can you handle it?"

He grinned. "That depends. Keep going."

Romoly almost laughed with joy.

Your hands so rough

Like satin down my spine;

Any request of me

I'd never think to decline.

Your softly whispered, "Romoly"

Sets my loins on fire.

Your heart so fierce

And your persistence never tires.

He'd left her mouth and resumed kissing down her trunk, laying her back on the bed, her words music to his soul. Spying his belt and his straining erection, she reached over and touched him, cupping his massive manhood.

He groaned in agony. "Stop it…" his plea vibrated against her belly button. "I could blow at anytime."

"There she blows," she murmured mischievously, bringing his laughter and a reprieve to his throbbing manhood. Romoly slowly began working his belt, pulling it free from the silver loop as she continued, switching to another poem she made up on the spot…

"Romoly", you softly whisper

Beneath you I gratefully lie.

"Romoly", you softly whisper

My heart hears your cry.

"Romoly", you softly whisper

Your hands between my thighs...

And he moved his hands to her words, laying them atop her thighs, rubbing them desperately through the pants. Finally doing what she'd wished he'd done all along he grabbed the waistband and pulled them down to reveal the same panties she'd worn to the library, the magenta Brazilian-cut. They had become his personal favorites.

"You are perfect," he said to her crotch, his hands resting on her hips to calm her writhing. She gulped, her eyes squeezed tight, her head thrown back against the pillow that smelled so much like him. She continued the poem to regain her own control…

"Romoly", you softly whisper,

My breath increasing its sighs.

"Romoly", you softly whisper,

Your breath tenderly showing your adore.

"Romoly", you softly whisper,

Your fingers gently caressing my core.

House was pulling down the panties, making sure they went over her cast. Slowly inching fingers up her legs, he stopped them at her downy mound, threading his fingers through the hot, dripping wet curls. Her murmurs quickly turned to whimpers as his fingers caressed her folds, touching her, getting the lay of her land. When his finger caressed her hot, pulsating clitoris she cried in agony, almost losing the ability to breathe.

House looked up and saw her panting, her eyes glazed. "Damn. Either I'm really, really good or you're just really, really horny."

Though her eyes were unfocused he saw the humor reflected in them. "Baby, you are soooo good." She ran her fingers through his hair. "I was halfway there when you stopped me at the door." She grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him towards her. "I don't want to come in your hand. I want you inside me. NOW."

Normally House didn't like his women commanding; he much preferred soft and yielding. But he wanted her so badly he'd have done anything she asked of him. Quickly stripping she took a moment to admire what she was about to partake in…and she quivered with excitement. He gently spread her willing legs, running his rough hands up her thighs as he settled between her legs. House watched her as he began teasing her with his penis, running the head of his erection over her clit and through her folds, her desire wetting his own. She couldn't breathe; couldn't speak; he felt so RIGHT between her legs. She never felt this way with a man before, even with Clif. He never made her feel that all was right with the world like this man could…and did.

Leaning down, he took her mouth with his, running his tongue around hers as he rested at her wet and eager entrance, his own desire twitching and straining to explore her further. "Call me Greg and tell me you love me," he whispered, his teasing driving her to distraction.

She was gasped into his mouth as her abdomen fluttered with the very first orgasm tremors. "Greg…I love you...you're missing it…"

"I'm not…" he said and plunged deeply. She screamed with surprised delight, her walls already throbbing. He plunged then withdrew, then plunged deeper. Quickly withdrawing, he moved her to the foot of the bed so she could spread her legs wider, her cast hanging over the end. This was a better position for him, actually: leaning over the end of the bed. House took her good right leg and placed it on his shoulder. Once she was ready, still quivering, he kissed down her chest to her breast, latching on as he plunged the deepest he'd ever gone into a woman, impaling her to her very core.

She screamed again, her hands in his hair and her head tipped back, eyes closed. He continued his rhythm, all the while watching her movements as the first flutters of orgasm took over her. He wanted to see what he missed the only night, and the morning, they were together: he wanted her to look him in the eye when she came. And it was going to happen then.

"Open your eyes; I want to watch you come." He commanded as he pulled out and teased her again, the throbbing of his erection taking her own breath away. She bucked against him, grunting her disappointment.

"No…" she moaned.

House took a half-step back, not enough to lose her position, but enough to show her he meant business, and just stared at her. "Yes." She rolled her head from side to side and grabbed for his penis, hoping to guide him back in but he dodged her hands. "Please Rom…" he was begging because he needed to be inside her just as much as she needed him to be.

It was the please, and his first use of her nickname, that did it. She opened her eyes, looked at him and what she saw surprised her: his eyes were a much darker, almost a navy blue color. They were absolutely gorgeous. Grabbing for his face, she nodded her head and whispered, "Ok." She brought him back to her and kissed him, long, deep and greedy. Moving her hands to his sides, she held on as he plunged back in, reigniting what kept her on fire. Except now she watched his every movement: the sinewy shoulders that held him up so he wasn't too heavy on her; her leg on his shoulder; his hands on her breasts; his long, wet, thick penis conquering her throbbing body. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Very shortly thereafter she was hit with a huge orgasm, one unlike any she'd ever had in her life. As she shuttered and her walls closed in on him, she watched his face. Every emotion imaginable came over him as he watched her, felt her writhing, her sounds bouncing off the walls. It was soon after this he came himself, exploding into her, nearly losing consciousness from the sensation overload. And he knew it was because she watched him. Their bond was now stronger than it had ever been. And they both knew they were forever knotted to each other.

But she wanted more, despite how tired they were. She felt he'd abandoned her and now that he was back she couldn't get enough. "Greg," she moaned against his hair, his head on her thundering heart.

"Mmm?" he grunted, his hands roaming, caressing, igniting her once again.

"Do it again…"

He groaned as he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. Never had he elicited a reaction like the one he was getting. He slowly trailed a hand down her side, to her sopping wet mound, his semen and her juices making the area incredibly slick. With two fingers he opened her petals wider and entered her, this time slow and easy, his penis taking its time, his mouth mapping her body.

She watched him, watched how perfectly she fit around him, and the sensations intensified. As if that were even possible, the intensity already at 11. She was breathless and speechless, pantomiming her screams. He hadn't heard anything from her and he looked up. Her struggle for speech was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen and he never took his eyes from hers as his rhythm increased. She made a gurgling sound as she throbbed harder around him, squeezing him but failing to scream out…it was like she'd momentarily lost all ability to scream with his touches.

"Greg…I'm about to…"

"Come for me Rom…throb for me…"

And she did just that as the second orgasm twitched throughout her body; her eyes wide open with surprised greatness; her mouth open but not a sound leaving until he gently caressed her cheeks and murmured his love in her ear. It's what opened her vocal chords and she let loose like a banshee, her body racked with ceaseless tremors.

He didn't know what kind of a woman he had on his hands: he'd never had a woman react that powerfully to him. Perhaps she was simply showing him how much sexual tension she'd stored up. It didn't matter; it was the most erotic and amazing thing he'd ever seen. And it was all for him. His grunting increased with his harder thrusts and it was her teeth on his ear that made him explode in her, pumping ribbon after ribbon of semen into her.

When they both finally came down, still twitching, he gathered her in his arms. She began weeping as she clung to him; she simply had no idea how to react.

After a few moments, as the sweat cooled between them and their breathing slowed, House muttered, "I knew I was good; I just didn't know I was THAT good."

Despite her sheer weariness, she began giggling. It was a relieved giggling. She felt she could finally finish the poem…

"Romoly", you softly whisper,

As my soul ignites.

"Romoly", you softly whisper,

As it takes flight.

"Romoly", you softly whisper,

No space your arms allow.

"Romoly", you softly whisper,

"See? I am yours now."


	70. Epilogue

**Here is the last chapter, the epilogue, of 'A Bad Case of Librarianism'. I just want to thank all of you beautiful readers! Your comments and your support has been invaluable! I wrote this story over two years ago for the Fox Forum… and it's just now finishing on the Fanfic site! Wow!**

**Anyway, thank you so much again! I really do love this story!**

**EPILOGUE**

**FIVE MONTHS LATER…**

It was time for the dedication of the "CLIFTON JAMES MEMORIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL CENTER" at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. A lot had happened in the five months between the donation and then…

House and Romoly were still together though both agreed they weren't ready for her to move in permanently. She was back in her apartment. The leg cast was finally off and she'd healed remarkably well with no complications. House claimed it was because she naturally healed well; she claimed it was his splinting the day it was damaged. No matter. She always complimented whenever he self-deprecated. And the longer they were together as true boyfriend and girlfriend, they discovered how well-suited they were to each other. While House was a jerk and that probably wouldn't change, Romoly did whatever she could to make him see that she didn't want to change him; she wasn't a fixer. And House appreciated that.

That day of the dedication, Romoly had taken off of work. Yes, she was still working; just because she had money didn't stop her from doing the job she loved the most, no matter what House still thought of the job. And House loved this about her, her dedication to what she loved. While he did occasionally rib her about her choice of vocations, he'd also seen her in action at the library and had finally come to realize that she was a very smart cookie. She was like House, after all: a seeker of fact among the chaos of the literary world.

Romoly arrived at the new diagnostics office several hours before the dedication. She was nervous and knew that only one person could calm her, even if he was in the middle of work. To simply listen to his voice was enough to soothe her. And she was truly impressed with the new offices. They included several patient rooms, a full nursing staff, new and intricate equipment especially suited to their practice, and individual offices for the fellows. Although Romoly had been the one to make this all happen, it had been House that dictated, within reason, what he wanted. She'd been true to her word: she didn't interfere. She didn't want to; she wanted to give House everything he wanted. And she was glad she could.

Pushing open the main door, she found Susie (ironic, right? But as far as Romoly knew they didn't call her 'Silky Sue'…at least not yet) the part-time administrative assistant sitting at the greeting desk. She looked up when she heard the glass door being pushed open and grinned widely when she saw Romoly. Everyone loved Romoly; not because of what she gave them but because she was a wonderful person who wielded a calming power over their boss. "Hi Rom. How are you?"

Romoly grinned; she and Susie had become friends, going out for coffee or lunch sometimes. "I'm wonderful Susie. How's the brigade today?"

"Very busy. They've got a tough case and the discussion is heated. You can go back there if you want."

"I think I will. Thanks Susie."

Romoly quickly found the conference room and smiled when she saw the fellows huddled around the stationary whiteboard on the wall, their fearless leader tapping the black (the only color he'd ever use) marker against his chin. She grinned when she remembered the choosing of "the whiteboard". They personally went to three manufacturers, speaking with their representatives, only to find the perfect one at an Office Depot. Who knew? Romoly pushed open the clear door and got the attention of everyone working. They grinned when she came in. House's scowl instantly changed to a grin. He loved when she dropped by and, judging from her clothing, she was early for the dedication.

"Hello. Can I sit in? I'm early for the dedication and was so nervous I couldn't do anything at home." She paused. "Am I interrupting something?"

House shook his head. "Not anymore. They've got tests they need to run on Mrs. Walters."

They nodded, gathered their patient folders and smiled to Romoly as they left to complete their tasks. House put down the marker and made his way to her as she leaned against the doorframe. When he got to her, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her to him, rubbing himself against her.

Romoly grinned as she caressed his neck with her nails, smiling at the goose pimps clearly visible on his reddening neck. "So early in the day. What a novel idea."

He grinned and leaned forward, his mouth within millimeters of her own. "I thought so myself. Did you know the patient's beds in here recline?"

Romoly nodded and rolled her eyes. "Why do you ask me that whenever I come here? Just because we test them out whenever I'm here doesn't mean you have to keep asking. Besides, I'm too nervous for anything. I thought we could get some food and unwind before the dedication."

He shrugged. "Sure. Let's go to the cafeteria."

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

House always amazed her: their time before the dedication was truly a relaxing, intimate time spent in the cafeteria. Since the dedication was at four, they'd arrived at the cafeteria a little after 1:30 and the lunch crowd was winding down. Finding a secluded spot Romoly realized how fortunate she was: House was truly listening and offering sound, calm advice. He wasn't giving back snappy retorts or calling names. He was having a discussion just like a true adult would have. Of course, it did help that he was in love with the person he talked to, an emotion that hadn't wavered but flourished in the five months they'd spent together.

By 3:45 it was time to leave and they went to Cuddy's office. She wanted to see her before, if only to talk about what would happen. "Are you nervous?" Cuddy asked when they arrived.

Romoly shrugged but held her hand up and made the back and forth gesture of someone claiming they were "somewhat" nervous.

"She's terrified," House interjected.

"Thanks Romoly for telling her your true feelings," the real Romoly said. She turned to Cuddy. "Can we just get this over with? I'm more nervous now than I was at the department head meeting. But this feels so different; I want everyone to feel that the proper emphasis and dedication is given to mental health issues."

Cuddy grabbed her tailored jacket and her file and smiled at Romoly. "I know. But they are so thrilled you came through to help you could've shown up in a burlap sack and yelled, "WELCOME ALL LOONEY TUNES!" Yeah, they were that desperate. So you have nothing to worry about."

Romoly giggled and Cuddy smiled. "It's just too bad James isn't here to share this with me; he made so much of it happen. But I know he and Diana will be happy."

"When do they get back from Jamaica?" Cuddy asked, still surprised her star oncologist impetuously eloped with Romoly's assistant librarian to Jamaica.

"Saturday. He's just pissed they didn't invite him to come along." Romoly said, pointing to the pouting House.

"I'm his best friend; I deserved to go."

"Not when you'll just make a spectacle of yourself."

"Can it lady."

Romoly grinned and Cuddy laughed as they walked out of her office. Just as they were leaving, House quickly grabbed Romoly's hand and squeezed real quick then let it go. That was the extent of the PDA they showed when others were around. It was just what she needed.

HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…

And the dedication went very well, with her speech moving the amazingly abundant crowd that showed up. Most were family and friends of current and past patients. They'd remembered Romoly from the Clif situation and, not only offered their sympathies, but also their thanks for her donation and empathy for her own situation.

When the crowd had dispersed and all that was left was the party mess and House and Romoly, she looked at House. He was tired but it was clear he didn't mind coming. She sauntered to him and stood close by but didn't touch him. "Well, that's over…"

"It's about time. I'm tired; it's time to go home and go to bed. But I know I'll have trouble sleeping."

"Oh? And why is that?"

House tilted his head toward the exit and she followed, grinning behind him. "Because I need a bedtime story to help me fall asleep."

"Oh, I see. What story did you have in mind?"

They got to the exit and walked through the sliding doors. House stopped and looked at Romoly. "I was thinking about a story of a librarian who seduces her men with the Dewey Decimal System…except cut out the story part."

"Oh…" Romoly said a third time, sliding her hand into his larger one, his long fingers wrapping around her much smaller ones. "Does it go a little something like this…_There are ten main classes of the Dewey Decimal System…000 is Computer Science, Information and General Works…_"

House grinned down at her, tightened his hold on her fingers and sped up his hobble, yanking her laughing self behind him. Yes, the Dewey Decimal System did work. After all, he'd been infected with…

A bad case of librarianism.

**THE END**


End file.
